And They Lived Happily
by Chelles
Summary: The best part isn't always the ride off into the sunset. Sometimes, the best part comes right before. Sequel to Chasing the Rainbow's End.
1. Prologue

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my story! This is the continuation of two of my previous stories, so I'd suggest beginning with "Fairytales" and then reading "Chasing the Rainbow's End" before starting this one. If you'd rather not, then feel free to disregard my advice … but, bear in mind that all three stories are connected.

This chapter is just the prologue to this story. It's a situation that I know is highly unlikely, but the romantic in me couldn't stop writing it, no matter what my logical side said. The next chapter will get into the believable part of the story.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this new story!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Prologue_

"Okay, that's done," Laura Sidle said as she finished tying the pink ribbon in her daughter's hair. "Turn around so that Mommy can see you."

Sara Sidle turned as directed and looked at her mother with a hopeful smile. Laura grinned back at her.

"You look beautiful, princess," she said, smoothing the skirt of Sara's dress. "Should we go show Daddy how nice you look?"

Sara nodded and took her mother's offered hand. They left her bedroom and went to the living room, where Malcolm Sidle was watching the morning news on tv.

"Look at me, Daddy!" Sara exclaimed as they entered the room.

He turned from the tv, his eyes falling on his little girl. He smiled at her.

"Don't you look pretty?" he smiled. "You're going to help Mommy pick out some new pictures for the house?"

Sara rolled her eyes as best a five-year-old could. "_Paintings_, Daddy," she said empathetically.

Malcolm laughed good-naturedly. "That's right. Daddy's little genius always knows the right words." He looked at his wife with a smile. "Sara's smarter than the both of us, Laura."

Laura smiled back, hoping that he was right. "We'll be back in time for dinner tomorrow," she promised.

"Take your time," he smiled. "It's a long trip to Venice."

Laura's smile shook slightly. She knew very well that if she came home too late to have dinner ready the next day, the consequences would be severe. "We'll be back in time," she said.

He shook his head. "I can't believe you're going that far just to find some artwork."

"This gallery is supposed to be amazing."

He nodded. "So they say." He turned from his wife to look at his daughter. "You take good care of Mommy while you're away, okay?" he smiled, kissing Sara's cheek.

"I will," Sara replied solemnly.

"Good girl." He stood up to kiss his wife. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Laura nodded and took Sara's hand. "Let's go, princess."

They walked out to the car, and Laura buckled Sara in. She glanced at their suitcase in the backseat, wondering for the millionth time if she shouldn't just leave and keep driving. Why not? Why come back to this place? Why come back to _him_?

Then, she turned to see _him_ leaning in the passenger seat to give Sara one last kiss on her tiny cheek. Sara giggled at something he said, and Laura felt her throat ache.

She couldn't separate them. Sara loved her father, and he was so proud of his "little genius," as he always called her. And, he loved Laura, too, as much as she loved him. He had a bit of a temper, but so many men did. It wasn't so bad. They'd be fine.

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Sara asked for the tenth time.

"Almost, sweetie," Laura replied. "Why don't you take a nap? We'll probably be there when you wake up. It will make the time go faster."

"I'm not tired," Sara said, her jaw dropping in a wide yawn.

Laura glanced at her and smiled. "Just close your eyes and count to fifty, princess."

Sara complied at once. She loved number games. She leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes as she began to count aloud. As Laura had assumed, she was asleep before she reached thirty.

Sara awoke just as they drove into Venice. She looked out the window for a moment, then looked at her mother.

"Where are we?"

"We're in Venice, baby," Laura replied. She glanced at the clock. "Are you hungry? It's lunch time."

"Yes," Sara said.

Laura glanced up the street, searching for a restaurant. "How about McDonald's?"

"Yay!" Sara exclaimed. "Can I have ice cream?"

Laura laughed. "Okay. But, you have to eat your lunch first."

Sara nodded enthusiastically. "Okay."

* * *

After eating their lunch and ice cream cones, they went to the gallery. Sara looked around with wide eyes as her mother opened the front door.

"Don't touch anything, Sara," Laura cautioned as they entered the large building.

"I won't," Sara promised.

A young man with bright blue eyes and curly brown hair stepped out from behind the desk at the back of the room. He gave them a welcoming smile.

"May I help you?"

"We're looking for a few paintings for our bed and breakfast," Laura smiled.

He nodded. "Do you have a particular theme you'd like to …?"

"Mommy, look at this!" Sara exclaimed, cutting off his question.

"Sara, don't interrupt when others are talking!" Laura chided. "Come here and stay with me."

Sara obediently crossed to her mother, her eyes darting back to the painting she had found. The man smiled at her.

"Your name is Sara?" he asked.

Sara looked up at him with her big brown eyes and nodded shyly. He smiled wider.

"I'm Gil. I'd like to help you and your mom find the paintings you want. Did you see one that you like?"

Sara nodded.

"Will you show it to me?"

She nodded again, and looked up at her mother. Laura nodded, and Sara took off down the row, the pink bow her mother had tied bouncing with her dark hair. Laura and Gil followed behind her.

"There," Sara said, pointing at a painting that was hanging at the perfect height for a little girl to notice.

"Ah," Gil smiled. "That's a copy of a Sánchez Coello."

"Who are the girls?" she asked, pointing at the two little girls in the painting who stood side by side, each holding one side of a wreath of flowers.

"They're princesses," Gil explained. "Their names were Isabel Clara Eugenia and Catalina Micaela."

Sara's eyes grew to the size of saucers. "They're princesses?"

"Yes."

"Real, live princesses?"

Gil smiled. "They were," he said.

"Where do they live?"

"They lived in Spain," he explained. "Do you know where that is?"

"In Europe," she answered.

His eyebrows shot up. "Very good. You're a smart little girl."

"Daddy says I'm a genius."

He grinned at her. "I'm sure you are."

"Do you know more about them?" Sara asked, pointing to the princesses in the pictures.

"Well, this one was Isabel Clara Eugenia," Gil said. "She was her father's favorite."

Sara's face fell as she looked at the other girl. "But, what about her? Did her daddy love her, too?"

"I'm sure he did," Gil said, immediately regretting telling her that piece of information.

"Was he the king?"

"Yes, he was."

"Wow," Sara said, looking back at the princesses again. "Did they have princes who came to rescue them?"

Gil frowned slightly and Laura smiled.

"Sara and I read a lot of fairytales," she explained. "She likes to read the ones about princesses who are rescued by princes."

"Ah," Gil said, looking back at Laura. He wasn't surprised that he had nearly forgotten about her while talking to Sara. Children had an amazing ability to capture his attention. "Well, this would be a lovely piece, if you'd like to buy it. As I said, it's a copy of the original … I believe the original is in the Museo del Prado in Madrid."

"Madrid is the capital of Spain," Sara said suddenly, eager to show off her knowledge to the nice man.

"That's right," Gil smiled. "Your father is right, Sara – you _are_ a genius."

She giggled.

Gil looked back at Laura. "If you're interested …"

Laura shook her head slightly. "I don't know … we had thought of just getting some seascapes or scenes of San Francisco …"

"Oh, please, Mommy?" Sara begged, grabbing her mother's hand again. "_Please_, can't we have the princesses?" She looked back at the painting, her eyes focusing on the younger of the two princesses. "I want Catalina Micaela to know that someone loves her best."

Gil watched as Laura's resolve melted under her daughter's hopeful expression.

"All right," she said. "Daddy said we could have three paintings, so why don't you go find us two with the ocean in them?"

"Okay," Sara said cheerfully, bouncing down the row to look at the other paintings.

"I'm sorry," Gil said. "If I had known, I wouldn't have given her so much information …"

"Don't worry about it," Laura smiled. "I'm sure she would have talked me into it even without knowing that they were princesses." She noted the UCLA t-shirt that he was sporting. "Are you studying art history? You're very knowledgeable about the paintings."

"No, actually, I'm studying entomology," he said. "This is my mom's gallery; I help her out over the summer. I work here while she goes to look at new artists."

"That's very kind of you."

He shrugged. "After all she's done for me, it's the least I can do for her."

"Mommy! I found one!"

Laura smiled. "Show me, princess."

Two hours later, Laura and Sara had purchased the three paintings they had come to buy. Sara was beaming as they prepared to leave; she was thrilled that she had gotten her painting of the princesses. Gil smiled at her as her mother signed the credit card slip.

"You'll take good care of the princesses, won't you?"

Sara nodded solemnly. "Thank you for telling me about them."

He looked surprised that she was so polite. "You're welcome. Thank you for giving them a good home."

"Thank you for all your help, Gil," Laura said. "Tell your mother that she's raised a wonderful young man."

He smiled, flushing slightly. "Thanks, Mrs. Sidle."

He walked to their car with them, carrying the heavy paintings. He packed them into the backseat while Laura helped Sara buckle her seatbelt in the front. Sara turned around to watch as he finished securing the paintings.

"Bye, Gil," she said cheerfully.

"Bye, Sara," he smiled.

Laura thanked him again, and climbed into the driver's seat. Gil watched as they drove away, thinking that Sara Sidle was a darling little girl. He hoped that if he ever had a daughter, she'd be just like Sara.

* * *

"_Did_ _you meet anyone in the shop today_?" Mrs. Grissom signed over dinner.

"_A_ _woman from San Francisco_," he replied. "_Your reputation is spreading, Mom. She drove hours to get here._"

Mrs. Grissom smiled. "_But, did she buy anything_?"

"_Three paintings_."

Her eyes widened. "_So many_!"

"_They're for her bed and breakfast_." He smiled at the memory. "_Her little girl talked her into one of them_."

"_How old is she_?"

"_The little girl_? _About five_."

"_So cute_."

"_Yeah, she's cute_."

She shook her head. "_You're so good with children, Gil. You should be a teacher_."

He smiled. They had had this argument before. "_I don't want to be in charge of an entire classroom of children, Mom. Besides, I like bugs_."

She shook her head again. "_You and your bugs. You're going to become a hermit if you don't spend more time with people_."

"_I spend plenty of time with people_. _I talked to Sara and her mother today_."

"_Sara? Is that the little girl's name?_"

"_Yes_."

"_Pretty name_."

He smiled. "_She's a pretty little girl_." He paused. "_Did you find anything worth showing today_?"

"_Yes, I did_."

His mother began to describe the paintings she had seen from a new, talented artist. As she related the events of her day to him, little Sara slipped from Gil's mind.

It would be decades later before he would think of that afternoon in the gallery again.

* * *

Sara was sound asleep when Laura pulled into their driveway. Malcolm came out of the house as she parked the car, smiling at them. He opened Sara's door as Laura stepped out of the car.

"Looks like you wore her out," he said as he lifted Sara out of the car.

"She fell asleep about an hour ago," Laura said. "I'll take her in. Could you get the paintings?"

"Sure."

Laura took the sleeping child and carried her into the house. She laid her down on her bed and covered her with a blanket. By the time she got back downstairs, Malcolm had unwrapped the paintings.

"What do you think of them?" she asked.

He frowned at her. "I thought we had agreed on local scenes done by local artists."

"I know," Laura said with an apologetic smile. "That third one is a copy of a Sánchez Coello. Sara wanted it."

"Sara … Laura, this is ridiculous! We run a bed and breakfast for Christ's sake, not a five star hotel! Where on earth are we going to put something like this?"

"I don't know," she said, trying to stay calm. "If you could have seen Sara's face …"

"Stop pinning this on Sara!" he yelled, advancing on her. "She doesn't have a credit card, Laura! _You_ do! _You're_ the one who paid for this! _You're_ the one who bought this with _our_ money!"

"It's a gorgeous painting, Malcolm!" Laura cried a bit desperately, fearful of the way his temper was mounting. "Even you can see that!"

The back of his hand came down across her face. "It's a goddamn waste of money, that's what it is!"

Laura raised a shaking hand to her cheek. "You told me to get paintings."

He turned away from her, clutching at his hair for a moment. "Don't play stupid!"

"I'm not –"

He struck her again, sending her flying off her feet. "I swear, Laura, sometimes …"

Laura wanted to fight back, but she couldn't find the strength. She pulled herself into a sitting position, clutching her knees to her chest as the tears gathered in her eyes.

"Christ, Laura, I'm sorry," Malcolm said, sitting down next to her. He grabbed her into his arms, hugging her against his chest. "I hate it when I hurt you. You know that, don't you?"

She nodded against his chest, trying to stop the tears.

"Look, we'll … we'll just put the painting in Sara's room. She'll like that, won't she?"

"She will," Laura agreed.

"Good. I'll go hang it right now."

* * *

When Sara woke up, the first thing she saw was the painting of the princesses hanging opposite her bed. She gave a shriek of delight and ran to find her mother.

"Mommy!" she exclaimed, running into her parents' room. "The princesses are on my wall!"

Laura put down the foundation she had been using to cover the bruises on her cheeks. "I know, princess. Daddy put your painting there. He thought you'd like it."

Sara looks suspiciously at the make up. "Are you hurt, Mommy?"

"Just a little," Laura admitted. "It's nothing. I don't even need a doctor, see? Just a little bit of foundation."

Sara nodded and smiled. "Will you read me a story about the princesses?"

"I don't know if we have one about those two particular princesses," Laura said. "Can we make one up about them?"

Sara cocked her head to the side as she considered it. "Can we call Gil? He knew all about them. He might know a story about them."

Laura smiled. "I don't think so, sweetie."

Sara's face fell. "Oh." She thought about her new "friend" for a moment. "He's smart, huh?"

"Yes, he is."

Sara considered this for a moment. "I'm going to marry him," she whispered.

Laura's eyebrows shot up. "Sara! You're far too young to get married!"

"Not right now," Sara said seriously. "I have to wait until I'm grown up. When I'm ten, I'll marry him."

"Oh," Laura said, trying desperately to keep a straight face. "As long as you're willing to wait until you're old enough."

Sara nodded with a smile. "I'm going to go look at my princesses."

"You do that."

Sara skipped off to her room to study the painting, leaving a very amused mother behind her.

For a few weeks, Sara thought of Gil every time she looked at the painting. Then, the stories she invented to go with the portrait took over, and she thought only of the two Spanish princesses. Gradually, Gil slipped from her mind.

It would be decades later before she would think of that afternoon in the gallery again.


	2. Solitude

A/N: Thank you all so much for such a positive response to the first chapter! I really hope that the rest of the story lives up to your expectations.

As per my usual comment, I hope to have the next chapter up by next weekend … but, as you can see, I'm finding more time to write during this school year (so far) than I had anticipated. (Obviously, a very good thing.) So, maybe I'll be able to post sooner!

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Solitude_

"Okay. Assignments."

"Whoa, Griss, hang on a sec."

Grissom glanced over the tops of his reading glasses, focusing on the frowning face in front of him. "What's wrong, Nick?"

Nick looked at his supervisor as though he had lost his mind. "Where's Sara? She never misses the start of shift."

Grissom cleared his throat. "She's taking some vacation time."

"Sara?" Warrick asked in shock. "I didn't think she knew _how_ to take vacation time."

"Well, apparently, she does," Grissom said a bit shortly. "Can we get to work, please?"

The guys stopped their grumbling about Sara forgetting to say good bye to them and took their assigned case – a shooting in a suburban neighborhood – without further complaint. When they were gone, Catherine looked at Grissom.

"Okay, what's going on with Sara?"

"Who said anything is?" Grissom asked.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Look, Gil, Warrick's right – Sara never takes time off. Did she tell you what's wrong?"

"Why are you assuming the worst?"

She looked at him closely. "You're hiding something."

"From you? Perish the thought."

"Why are you protecting her, Grissom?" Catherine asked.

"I'm not."

She narrowed her eyes and just looked at him for a moment.

Grissom sighed. "What do you want me to say, Catherine? That I forced her to take the time off?"

Catherine's eyes grew wide. "Did you?"

"Cath …"

"Grissom, I just –"

"Leave it alone, Catherine," Grissom said shortly, finally losing patience with her. "It's Sara's business, not yours. And, don't go around the lab trying to find out what's going on. You know Sara. If she didn't tell our team, she didn't tell anyone."

"You're right," Catherine admitted. She looked at him closely. "You didn't fight with her again, did you? She hasn't quit, has she?"

He smiled. "No, I didn't do anything to upset her." He frowned slightly. "At least, I don't think I did."

Catherine sighed. "Well, _that's_ a dangerous thought."

"Let's put it this way, then: According to the paperwork on my desk, she'll be back in three weeks."

"Good lord," Catherine said. "Is she going to China?"

"Catherine …"

"Right. You don't know anything, and you wouldn't tell me if you did."

He smiled. "That's right."

Catherine gave him a look of feigned disgust. "You know, there was a time when you always sided with me."

Grissom frowned. "I wasn't aware of ever taking anyone's _side_."

She laughed and shook her head. "Always such the politician."

* * *

"Come on, Sara. You can do this."

Sara looked up at the imposing brick building and took a deep breath. She had spent the past three days talking herself into the idea that she would being seeing a counselor again – something she hadn't done since exiting foster care at the age of eighteen. She hated opening up to anyone other than Mary. She wouldn't be here now, if not for the fact that Grissom had insisted.

"If you don't do this, he'll fire you," she reminded herself.

That thought was enough to propel her up the steps and into the building. She took the elevator to the third floor, and followed the hall down to the correct office. She opened the door and was greeted by a smiling receptionist.

"May I help you?"

"I have an appointment," Sara said, feeling the warmth rise in her cheeks. Oh, she so hated admitting that she had actually made an appointment for this.

The receptionist nodded. "Your name?"

"Sara Sidle."

He checked something on his computer and nodded. "You'll be seeing Christina in just a few minutes. I'll let her know you're here."

"Thanks."

Sara turned from him and took a seat in the waiting room. Only moments later, she was summoned into the inner office.

Christina had red hair, a wide smile and the most compassionate green eyes Sara had ever seen. As much as she hated everything about this experience, she had to admit that Christina did have a calming influence over her. Maybe she would be willing to share a secret or two, after all. Maybe.

"Hi, Sara," she said. "Have a seat."

Sara smiled and sat down in one of the cushy armchairs in the woman's office. Christina sat down opposite her, balancing a notebook on her knees.

"Do you mind if I take notes while you talk?"

Sara shook her head. "That's fine."

"Great. Okay, so, you're a CSI?"

"That's right."

Christina smiled. "When did you get into law enforcement?"

"Oh, it's been ages," Sara said thoughtfully. "Seven or eight years ago."

"You must like it, if you've stayed with it that long."

"I can't imagine doing anything else," Sara nodded.

"Good for you," Christina smiled. "Very few people can say that." She paused, as though waiting for Sara to say something. When Sara remained silent, she continued, "What made you decide to become a CSI?"

Sara sighed. She couldn't take these stupid questions designed to put her at ease while at the same time gleaning information. She decided to just tell Christina as much. "Look, Christina, you seem like a very nice person, so I'll be honest with you. I'm here because my supervisor mandated it after I was pulled over and nearly charged with DUI. I'm not good at sharing my thoughts and feelings, and I really don't like talking to counselors." She paused. "No offense."

"None taken."

"I'm sorry," Sara said. "I'm just not very good at this."

"Okay," Christina said. "I'll be honest with you, too."

Sara raised an eyebrow.

Christina put the notebook down on her knees and leaned forward. "You're a CSI," she said. "You're used to pulling the truth from reluctant suspects, right?"

"Right," Sara said slowly.

"Well, I'm a counselor. I'm used to pulling the truth from reluctant patients." She smiled. "We sort of do the same thing in that way. The problem I always have with CSIs and cops is that they think that they can outsmart me. They know all the tricks designed to make them fall and admit to some horrible sins. So, how about if we both cut the games? Let's just … talk. Tell me what you want to tell me, and I'll call it as I see it."

Sara couldn't help but smile. "All right," she agreed.

"Good," Christina smiled, leaning back in her chair again. "So, will you tell me about why you became a CSI?"

Sara looked thoughtful. "I suppose that was Grissom's doing."

"Grissom?"

"My supervisor," Sara explained. She paused. "I have both my degrees in physics. While I was doing my graduate work, I signed up for this seminar about the use of entomology in forensic science. It was fascinating. I had always planned to get a PhD in physics and teach at some university, but after that seminar, I decided to look into becoming a CSI." She shrugged. "I applied to the crime lab in San Francisco, got my first job in criminalistics, and here I am."

Christina nodded. "How does Grissom figure into all of this?"

"He was the lecturer at the seminar," Sara said.

"Ah," Christina nodded. "So, he sparked your interest?"

"Well, yes, but he also suggested that I look into criminalistics. He thought I'd be good at it." She smiled. "He was so excited when I told him that I was applying to the San Francisco lab … he even called in a favor to make sure that I'd get an interview."

"That was really nice of him."

She nodded with a smile.

"So, you became friends during the seminar?"

Sara nodded, feeling the warmth rising in her cheeks again. "I guess you could say my natural curiosity ran away with me. He was great about helping me learn all I could."

Christina looked at her closely, knowing in a heartbeat that there was far more to this than Sara was telling her. "Did you keep in touch after the seminar ended?"

"Yes," Sara said, knowing that the blush was still visible on her cheeks. "We mainly kept in touch via email, but we called each other from time to time, too."

Christina nodded. "You said you got your first job in San Francisco?"

"That's right. I grew up there; when I saw that they needed a physicist, I jumped at the chance to go back."

"You like it there?"

Sara shrugged noncommittally. "I suppose."

"Well, then, how did you end up in Vegas?"

"Grissom," Sara said with a somewhat apologetic smile. "One of the CSIs on his team was shot, and he asked me to come in and help with the investigation. After that, he asked me to stay and replace her."

"So, you just left your life in San Francisco and moved here because he asked you to?"

Sara frowned. "I didn't have much of a life in San Francisco, to be honest. My best friend had moved to Vermont for school, and I worked so much that I didn't have time to find new friends."

"What about your family? Are they still living there?"

Sara's face turned stony. "I don't have a family," she said with a finality that suggested that she did not want to be questioned about that further.

Christina nodded, filing that exchange away in her mind. "Have you found friends here in Vegas? Do you feel like you have more of a life here than you did in San Francisco?"

Sara nodded, her expression clearing. "I've become very close with my colleagues. They're incredible friends. Nick and Warrick … sometimes I think I'd be lost without them. I've never had friends like them before."

Christina smiled. "They sound like good guys."

Sara smiled and nodded. "They are good guys. Overprotective, but sweet."

"Any romantic interest?"

"In Nick and Warrick?" Sara laughed. "No way. They're like brothers to me."

"In Grissom?" Christina asked quietly.

Sara felt her stomach drop as the color and heat rushed to her face. "Can we not talk about this?"

"We don't have to talk about it now." Christina glanced at her watch. "We're out of time anyway."

"Thanks," Sara said, rising from her seat. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow, then."

"Right," Christina nodded, watching as her patient walked toward the door. "Sara … we will have to talk about it eventually."

Sara nodded, thinking that "eventually" could easily turn into "never." "I know."

Christina smiled. "See you soon."

* * *

Grissom sat in his office, staring blankly at the paperwork in front of him. He was having an awful time concentrating. He had been having problems focusing for over a week, something that was rarely an issue for him.

He sighed, knowing very well what was causing such problems with his concentration.

Sara.

Or, rather, lack of Sara.

He missed her. Terribly. More than he had ever thought that he would.

He just hated the thought of admitting it.

It was strange, really. Before she had moved to Vegas, they had been good friends. Obviously, living in completely different states, they had not been friends who went out together after work, but they had emailed or spoken nearly every day. And, somehow, after she had come to Vegas, they had drifted apart.

It didn't make any sense. They finally lived in the same city. They should be closer than ever. How could they possibly have gone from friends to … something less than friends?

Maybe it was the fact that they had shifted from "friends" to "coworkers." There was no need to make the effort to email or call daily when they knew they'd see each other at work. But, when they were at work, their entire discussions tended to revolve around their work. Grissom thought of the times he had walked into the locker room, the break room, the conference room, the garage, any part of the lab, really, to find Sara laughing with Nick, Warrick, Catherine, Greg, or even Hodges. Why didn't she laugh with him like that? Why didn't he try harder to _make_ her laugh like that?

He sighed again, scrubbing his hands over his face. He missed his friend.

When Sara came back from her vacation time, he would tell her just that. He would do his best to make things right between them.

He wanted their friendship back.

* * *

"Can we talk about your relationship with Grissom?"

Sara gave Christina a wry smile. "Do you have the entire afternoon dedicated to me?"

"That complicated, huh?"

"Mm-hm," Sara nodded. She smiled. After spending two weeks seeing Christina nearly daily, she was becoming more and more willing to share things with her. She had talked all about Mary, about Hank, about her college boyfriends, about her work … but, she had avoided the two topics that caused her the most pain – the two that Christina needed to know about the most.

"Well, just start at the beginning," Christina said, curling up in her chair. "Let's see how much you can tell me today."

Sara sighed. "Grissom and I met when he came to Berkley to give a seminar on the role of entomology in forensics. I signed up for it because it sounded interesting. Mary said that I was killing myself by taking on so much, but I just … I needed to keep running." She shook her head. "I still do. I always need to keep running."

"Are you running from something?"

Sara shrugged. Christina nodded, thinking that she had a pretty good idea of what was going on in Sara's head.

"So, you met at the seminar?" she prompted.

Sara smiled at the memory. "I was late for the first lecture. I … I was enthralled by him right from the beginning. The way he spoke … the passion he had for his work …" She shook her head slightly. "I stayed after class to apologize for being late, and … I don't know. I just felt like we had this connection right from the beginning."

"Did you say anything to him about it?"

"God, no," Sara sighed. "I couldn't …"

Christina nodded. "Understandable."

"At first, I thought it was just the science that had captured my interest. And, it did. It still does. Forensic science is completely fascinating to me."

"But?" Christina prompted.

Sara smiled. "Grissom was always there. He was my mentor, the one who first nudged me into forensics. He spent so much time working with me during that seminar. We'd stay after class for hours talking about the lectures. He brought me extra books to read, took me out for coffee so that we could spend more time talking …" She sighed. "Mary knew I had a crush on him even before I did. I had never felt that way about an older man before, much less a teacher, and I didn't know what to do. So, I threw myself into being his star student.

"But, the seminar ended six weeks later, and he left. He gave me his contact information, and we stayed in touch. Like I said, we'd email and call.

"Then, a few years later, he called to ask me to come here to help with an investigation. Once it was over, he asked me to stay."

"What's your relationship been like since then?"

"Strange," Sara sighed. "One minute, he's all distant, the next he's my best friend, and the next he's on the verge of being my boyfriend. I don't know what to make of him or of our relationship." She sighed. "He'll go from barely speaking to me to telling me I'm beautiful to joking with me to sending me a plant to calling me 'honey' to turning me down for dinner …" She trailed off, blushing as she realized what she had admitted.

"You asked him out?"

Sara drew a deep breath and nodded.

"And he turned you down?"

Again, she nodded. "He said he didn't know what to do about 'this.'" She air-quoted the last word, her face twisting up at the memory.

"How have things been between you since then?"

"Strained, I guess. Then normal again. I don't know. Like I said, it's complicated." She laughed hollowly, then sighed. "I guess I just wish I could have our friendship back. I'd give anything to go back to the way we were during that seminar at Berkley."

* * *

"Hey."

Grissom looked up from the evidence he was logging in to see Greg standing behind him. "Hi, Greg. How are the interviews going?"

Greg gave him a beaming smile. "I've found myself a replacement!"

"Well done," Grissom said, unable to hide his surprise. "And, who will we be welcoming to the lab?"

"Chandra Moore," he said. "She said she can be ready to start in a week. She's moving here from Connecticut."

"Perfect," Grissom said. "I have your final proficiency scheduled for a week from today."

Greg paled. "That's Chandra's first day."

"Good. You'll be able to leave the lab, then."

Greg swallowed and nodded, forcing a smile. "What if we don't have a homicide that day?"

Grissom laughed. "Greg, please. This is Vegas."

* * *

"Will you tell me about your family?"

Christina asked the question so gently and softly that Sara barely heard it. She blinked. "My family?"

"Yes." Christina paused. "I know what you said before, but I really do think that this might be something that you need to talk through."

Sara drew a deep breath. "I didn't have a good childhood."

"I assumed as much." Christina paused. "Was one of your parents abusive?"

Sara nodded, feeling herself emotionally detach from the conversation. "My father."

"Physically?"

Another nod.

"Toward you?"

A shrug. "Mostly toward my mother."

"How long did she stay with him?"

A wry smile. A raised eyebrow. "Until she stabbed him to death."

Christina's eyes widened. She had not expected _that_. "How old were you?"

"Thirteen."

"Did you see it happen?"

A shake of her head. "I always stayed out of the way when they fought. I didn't go into the room until … it was quiet." The memories flooded her head and she swallowed thickly. "Can we stop, please?"

Christina nodded. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

* * *

Grissom lay awake in his bed, watching the sunshine crawl across his floor. He couldn't sleep. He knew that he needed to sleep if he wanted to be able to function properly at work, but he couldn't seem to make his eyes stay closed.

He sighed, sitting up in bed. If he couldn't sleep, at least he could be productive.

He wandered around his townhouse over and over, trying to find something to capture his interest. By the time he conceded defeat, he had scattered journals all over the floor, tossed books across the coffee table, turned on both the television and the radio, opened a blank document on his laptop to start an article he needed to write and started the washing machine. At least he would have clean clothes.

He finally found his way back to his bed. He lay down on his back and stared at the ceiling. Not for the first time, his thoughts drifted to Sara.

He wondered what she was doing. He wondered if her time off was helping her to find the peace that she so desperately needed. He wondered if the counseling was helping.

He wondered if she thought about him as much as he thought about her.

His cell phone rang loudly, disrupting the quiet of the bedroom.

"Sara," he muttered, reaching across to pick the phone up from his nightstand. He looked at the caller ID, feeling his heart sink as he read the small display. Sighing, he flipped the phone open. "Hi, Jim."

"Hi," he said cheerfully. "What are you up to?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Great. I've got something for you to do. We've got a 419 at the Bellagio. It's all hands on deck."

Grissom sighed. "All right. I'll call the others."

At least this would save him from drowning in thoughts of Sara again.

* * *

"Well, here we are. Our final session."

Sara smiled. "Christina, I want to give you some massive credit. I have never told a counselor half of what I've told you … I've never told _anyone_ about my family before. You are truly amazing at what you do."

Christina grinned. "Thanks."

"You are more than welcome."

She giggled. "Let's see if you're still impressed once I've given you your homework."

"Homework?"

"Of course. The point of all this is to help you, right? I'm going to tell you what I see in you that you can … well, maybe not change, but be aware of so that it doesn't cause you problems."

"Okay. Shoot."

"I think that you bottle up too much emotion," Christina started. "I think you need to let things go as they come so that you don't wind up doing something that you'll regret later."

"Like going out and drinking, then trying to drive myself home."

"Yeah, like that."

"No worries," Sara smiled. "That was the dumbest mistake I've ever made. I won't do it again."

"Good." She paused. "I think you look for validation in inappropriate places."

Sara frowned slightly. "I don't understand."

Christina nodded. "Why did you go into forensics?"

"Because Grissom –"

"Why did you move to Vegas?" Christina interrupted.

"Grissom –"

"Why are you here right now?"

Sara started to answer but caught herself, feeling her face flush slightly.

"These are three major life decisions that you've allowed yourself to make because you wanted someone else's approval," Christina said. "I'm not saying they were bad decisions. Obviously, they've all worked out very well for you. But, you need to decide things for _you_, Sara, not for Grissom or anyone else."

Sara nodded, feeling slightly ashamed of herself.

"And, Sara … I think you tend to choose men who are emotionally unavailable."

A host of boyfriends ran through Sara's mind. Evan, her boyfriend during her freshman year, had broken up with her because he didn't want to be tied down. Jason, her senior year boyfriend, and Hank had both cheated on her. And, Grissom …

"I think you might be right on that one," she said quietly.

"Yeah, I thought so," Christina sighed. "Just … be careful, Sara. You are an amazing woman, and I know you deserve more than those guys had to offer you."

Sara sighed and nodded.

"Now, for your final piece of homework."

"There's more?"

Christina nodded. "I think you need to talk to your supervisor about your family."

"Christina, I can't." Horror crossed Sara's face. "I've never told anyone … I can't …"

"It matters, Sara," Christina said gently. "The things you've seen and experienced are a huge part of who you are, and I know that they effect how you do your job."

Sara thought back to her first year in Vegas and sitting up all night with Grissom and a frozen pig to prove that a woman had been killed by her husband. After learning of the evidence of years of domestic abuse, Sara had been completely unwilling to believe that the woman had been killed by anyone but the husband. She had been right … but, any supervisor other than Grissom probably would have been considerably less accommodating of her mania to prove her theory.

"You're right," she whispered at last. "It does matter in my job."

"Tell Grissom," Christina urged. "I think it will make a huge difference."

Sara sighed. "I'll do my best."


	3. A Fresh Start

A/N: Thanks so much for your continued support. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue come from episode 501, "Viva Las Vegas."

* * *

_A Fresh Start_

Sara was a nervous wreck as she drove to work for the first time in three weeks. It was like her first day at the lab in San Francisco all over again. Even her favorite radio station couldn't calm her down this time.

"Stop that," she told herself. "You have no reason to be nervous. It's not like any of this is new to you. You know exactly what you're going to have to do when you get there."

She couldn't help but smile as she thought of the work that awaited her. She had missed it so much. She didn't know what case she'd be working, of course, but she'd be happy with something as small as a robbery. She couldn't wait to fingerprint, to photo document, to swab something … even an autopsy sounded like fun at this point.

She had missed her work.

Those thoughts managed to work her nerves down to little butterflies.

"Your friends are there …"

At this thought, her smile blossomed into a grin. She couldn't wait to see Nick, Warrick Greg, Catherine …

Grissom …

Her smile faded. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him; she could hardly wait to see him again. The problem was the "homework" that Christina had assigned her. The thought of telling him about her family hung over her head like a death sentence.

"Christina said it would help," she reminded herself. She sighed. "Don't think about that right now. Think about everyone else …"

She finally felt herself slowly calming down.

* * *

Grissom could barely contain his excitement as he drove to the lab. He would finally see Sara again for the first time in three weeks.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

"You can't act like a giddy teenager," he told himself. "She's just a colleague … whose friendship you'd like to have back …"

Despite his rational thoughts, he couldn't manage to dim the smile on his face. He really was excited to see her again.

He wouldn't let himself stop to analyze _why_ he was so excited. He just _was_.

* * *

Although she had done a very good job of calming herself down while she drove, Sara's nerves returned in full force as she entered the lab. All her excited thoughts were gone, replaced by the terrifying thought of telling Grissom about her family.

She didn't see anyone as she made her way into the locker room, which was something of a relief. She wasn't sure she was ready to talk just yet. Once inside the locker room, she headed straight to her locker. She turned the familiar pattern of the dial and pulled it open. She looked at her reflection in the mirror that hung inside the door and sighed. She looked as nervous as she felt.

"You have to tell him," she muttered to her reflection. "Just … do it quickly …" She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "Maybe if I practice …"

She stared at her reflection and began talking, practicing what she would say to Grissom. She was interrupted when Greg appeared in the doorway, eager to introduce Sara to Chandra, his new replacement. Sara could only hope she was cordial and polite as she said hello; she was completely freaked out by being caught talking to herself. But, based on Greg's reaction, they hadn't overheard her. After Greg and Chandra had left, she sat back down hard.

"Okay, I'll just have to do the real thing," she muttered. "I don't need to practice for this." She swallowed. "It's just Grissom, after all …"

Somehow, that wasn't the calming thought that she had hoped it might be.

She finally left the locker room and made her way to Grissom's office. Unfortunately, he wasn't alone. He was surrounded by Greg, Chandra, Catherine, Warrick, Nick … Sara sighed and waited patiently as Grissom handed out assignments. She and Nick would be working together. Nick flashed her a megawatt smile as he left to get his field kit, telling her that he would meet her at the scene.

Everyone else left as quickly as Nick did, and Sara found herself alone with Grissom. She gave him a hesitant smile.

"Can I talk to you real quick?"

"Certainly," he said, looking at her seriously, appraisingly. "Have you been seeing your PEAP counselor?"

"Yeah," Sara said with a nod.

"How's that going?" Grissom asked, a bit of compassion finding its way into his voice.

"Well," Sara said. "It's … uh … been interesting –"

Anything else she would have said was cut off by a crash from the DNA lab, where Greg and Chandra were already busy breaking things. Sara and Grissom both turned to see Greg's apologetic shrug. Grissom sighed.

"It's going to be a busy night, huh?" Sara asked.

"Mm-hm," Grissom muttered grimly, thinking that Greg's final proficiency was off to a bad start.

"We'll talk later," Sara said, rather glad to make her exit.

"Are you sure?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah," Sara said, already walking away. "Yeah."

She exhaled slowly as she picked up her field kit. She was a coward, and she knew it. But, no matter what Christina said, it wasn't that easy. And, what was to be gained from him knowing? Weren't they better off this way?

She nodded slightly at that thought. She wouldn't tell him. He didn't need to know.

Immediately, relief flooded through her. She felt better already.

* * *

_They should make awards for this_, Grissom thought as he watched Sara walk away. _Not just anyone can hide this kind of emotion. _

Seeing her for the first time in three weeks had been jarring, to say the least. She looked beautiful. She always did, but there was something different … he thought she might have changed her hair. Aside from that, she looked refreshed after her time away.

Still, there was something not quite right … Grissom wasn't sure what it was, but there was something in her eyes that told him that all was not necessarily well with Sara.

He wanted to help her. He wanted to bring her back, to make her whole again.

He just hoped that she would let him.

* * *

Greg was unusually quiet during the ride to the nightclub where he would investigate a shooting death for his proficiency. Grissom was thankful for the silence, but couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for Greg. He had never seen the young man so nervous before.

They finally arrived, and Grissom parked the SUV. He looked over at his companion.

"Are you ready?"

Greg nodded, swallowing.

"Don't be nervous," Grissom said. "You've been working toward this for a long time. You're ready. Just get in there and do your job."

"Right," Greg nodded.

Grissom got out of the car, and Greg followed suit. They entered the club as David was taking the body out. He gave Grissom the car keys and money he had collected from the man's pocket as he left.

Greg looked around. "I've never seen this place with the lights on before," he said. "It's kinda like seeing a one-night stand in the morning for the first time."

Grissom looked away from the bag holding the victim's keys and money, and turned to Greg. He gave his young colleague a look of disbelief.

"Beer goggles," Greg explained.

"This is your proficiency test, Greg," Grissom said. "You might want to work the scene."

Fully chastised, Greg promised to look for the gun that had killed their as-yet-nameless victim. Grissom left to look for the victim's car, still shaking his head at Greg's comment. He didn't want Greg to lose his sense of humor completely, but had hoped that he would take his proficiency seriously.

Suddenly feeling very alone without Grissom there, Greg began making his way around the club, searching for the murder weapon. It was a slow and somewhat boring process. He had never done this alone before; he missed having someone to talk to and joke with as he worked. Putting that thought on his mental list of things he would never mention to Grissom, he slowly made his way along the bar.

"Finally," he muttered, noticing a shadow in one of the light fixtures. He sped up a bit, and started taking pictures before pulling the gun out of the light.

He bagged the gun, thrilled that he had been so successful. He decided to go over the room once more to make sure he hadn't missed anything before taking the gun back to the lab.

But, before he could do that, he needed to go to the bathroom.

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with this place?" Sara exclaimed as she and Nick climbed back into his SUV. A few hours ago, she had thought that digging up the body of a man wearing an alien costume from a spot in the desert near Area 51 was strange. Now, after following the source of his costume back to a wedding chapel, she wasn't so sure that the recovery of their vic had been the strangest part of her day.

Nick laughed, looking up and down the street at the people standing outside wedding chapels handing out flyers. "Weren't you paying attention to the alien minister? They're just spreading the love." He laughed again. "As I recall, he tried to spread it to _us_."

Sara rolled her eyes. "There must be fifty wedding chapels on this road, all with completely bizarre themes. How many people could possibly come to Vegas for the sole purpose of getting married? And how many of them honestly want to be married by aliens, or mobsters, or the freakin' _Statue of Liberty_?"

"Apparently, plenty of people come here for that reason. I'm sure that some of them already live here," Nick said as he stopped at a red light. He turned to look at Sara with a grin. "What do you say? Should we finally tie the knot? Everyone on this street would be behind us."

Sara burst out laughing. "Oh, when you ask so romantically, how could I possibly say no? Are we going back to the alien chapel?"

Nick laughed, then turned the conversation back to their case. "I don't know, Sara … do you think that guy was involved?"

Sara shrugged, thinking of the "alien" minister they had just interviewed. "The vic was definitely wearing an identical costume, which leads me to believe that they knew each other. But, he did say that people steal from him all the time …"

"I don't know," Nick said slowly. "Of all the nut jobs who watched us dig up that body out by Area 51, no one was wearing anything remotely like this."

"I know," Sara sighed. "I guess we'll just have to dig a little deeper. Maybe Chandra got something from the DNA samples we sent her."

"We'll ask her when we get back."

* * *

Greg stood with Grissom outside the DNA lab, watching Chandra work. It was a little odd for Grissom to see someone new in the lab; it was even stranger for Greg. But, Greg was thrilled to be done with the lab and out in the field. He only felt the slightest bit possessive of the lab; he could shove it aside easily enough.

Hodges joined them with an analysis of a blue substance Grissom had found on the gun Greg had recovered from the nightclub. He informed them that the mystery material was comprised of adhesive and toilet cleanser.

"So, Greg, how do you explain adhesive and toilet bowl cleanser on the gun?" Grissom asked.

"I don't know," Greg shrugged. "I can tell you the toilets in the club have blue water."

Grissom looked at him in surprise. That, he had to admit, was rather impressive. "You inspected the toilet bowls for evidence?"

Greg smiled. "Well, when you gotta go, you gotta go."

Grissom and Hodges both startled. Grissom felt as though the world had started to spin.

"At a crime scene, Greg?" he asked in disbelief.

"Everybody knows you hold it," Hodges said in his annoyingly superior tone.

"You go across the street or next door," Grissom said, "somewhere other than the scene, until you've cleared the restroom. Did you clear the restroom?"

"No," Greg said, shame seeping through him.

"You could have flushed away evidence! Wiped away fingerprints from the handle!" Grissom had to work to control his emotions. How could Greg make such a ridiculous mistake? "Make sure you include this in your field notes."

Grissom stalked off, leaving Greg and Hodges alone. He went to his office and sat down at his desk. He put his head in his hands for a moment.

He was upset with Greg, to be sure. But, he was also upset with himself. He should have supervised Greg better. He should have insisted that one member of the team take on training him. There was a reason that Jim had always put him or Catherine in charge of training the new CSIs. It was to make sure that they were thoroughly taught all procedures.

Poor Greg. He really was going to hate returning to the lab. And, if Greg returned to the lab, where would that leave Chandra?

* * *

"Um, I think this Chandra chick is a little … off," Sara said as she and Nick left the DNA lab. "She's a bit uptight, don't you think?"

"That would be an understatement," Nick laughed.

"It's going to take some getting used to," Sara sighed.

"Having someone other than Greg in the lab?"

"Yeah," Sara nodded. "But, even more than that, it's having someone so totally _different_ from Greg in the lab."

"But, Greg will be with us in the field," Nick grinned. "It's not like we're losing him."

"As long as he doesn't blow his proficiency."

"Well, _there's_ some confidence!" Nick laughed. "Did you fail any of yours?"

Sara shook her head.

"And neither will he. We've all worked with him, Sara. We know he can do his job."

"I know," she sighed. "But, what if there's something we've left out … something we've forgotten to teach him …"

"He'll be fine. He's probably acing it right now."

"Have he and Grissom closed the case yet? We could go find out what happened."

Nick screwed up his face. "Maybe we should wait for him to talk to us. Just in case it's not the outcome we're all hoping for."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "A bit of doubt, Mr. Optimism?"

"A bit of realism," Nick smiled. "Come on, let's go interview Elvis about this dead alien. Greg will tell us all about his proficiency when he's ready."

* * *

Grissom closed the case. Brass arrested the waitress who had shot the man in the nightclub with the gun Greg had recovered. For once, Grissom was not happy to see a case draw to a close. The end of the case meant that he had to talk to Greg.

He called Greg into his office. He sat across the desk from him, reviewing the case file. He sighed.

"You committed a fatal error, Greg," he said seriously. "You compromised evidence at a crime scene. Judgment like that can cost us a conviction."

Greg bore up bravely as his world turned upside down. He sat in silence, listening as calmly as possible while Grissom explained that he had failed his third and final proficiency. As much as it killed him, he knew that Grissom was making the right decision. He knew that he would never do anything like that again, but he also knew that he was just as likely to make another equally grave mistake. He just didn't know enough. He just wasn't good enough to be a CSI. He had let Grissom, Catherine, Sara, Nick and Warrick down.

Thinking that their interview was over, Greg got up from his seat and made his way to the door. Grissom watched him for a moment, a horrible sinking feeling filling his chest. Greg would have made an excellent CSI, and they were about to lose him. Grissom made up his mind in an instant. He couldn't let Greg walk out the door. If he did, he would lose a valuable member of his team.

"But," he said slowly.

Greg stopped dead in his tracks and turned around.

"Since you found a suitable replacement in the lab," Grissom said, "I'm going to give you one more chance." _And, this time, I'm going to make sure that you're properly trained before I let you try again_.

"Thank you," Greg said, feeling his world turn right-side up again. "Thank you."

He left Grissom's office in time to catch Chandra as she stumbled out of the DNA lab. He asked her how her first day had gone; she reacted by screaming that it was too much work for one person.

"They all want _you_," she spat. "I can't be you."

She shoved her lab coat at him and stalked off down the hall. Greg felt his world flip yet again.

"Grissom!" he yelled.

Grissom poked his head out of his office door. "You bellowed?"

Greg trotted back down the hall to his supervisor's office. "If, hypothetically speaking, Chandra were to quit, would I still get that chance?"

Grissom frowned. "Chandra …?"

"Mr. Grissom, I can't do this." Chandra herself appeared next to Greg. "I'm sorry, but it's just … too much. I wasn't cut out for this lab."

Grissom closed his eyes for a moment. "May I have that in writing?"

"Of course. I'll fax you my letter of resignation when I get back to Connecticut."

"Chandra … I wish you'd give us a few days …"

She shook her head. "It's better that you have someone else."

With that, she walked out of the lab and out of their lives. Greg turned to Grissom with a pleading expression.

"Okay," Grissom sighed. "Find yourself yet another replacement. Until then, we're back to where we were before Chandra got here."

"But, I can still have one more chance?"

"Yes."

Greg finally managed a small smile. "Thanks, Griss. I won't disappoint you."

"I know you won't," Grissom replied.

Grissom's confidence in him was enough to force a genuine smile out of Greg. That smile alone told Grissom that he had made the right decision.

* * *

At the end of an exceedingly strange first day back, Sara finally made her way home. She was exhausted; she had forgotten during her time away how draining her job was. But, it was a "good" tired. She knew she would fall into bed as soon as she got home, but she couldn't wait to wake up ready to go back to work again. Smiling to herself, she sang along with the radio as she drove home.

Her phone started ringing, and Sara jumped. She reached out to turn off the radio and take the phone from its place in the cup holder.

"Sidle."

"Sara! You're never going to believe what's happened!" Mary practically yelled into her ear.

"After the day I've had, I'll believe almost anything. Try me," Sara laughed. She hadn't heard Mary this excited in ages.

"I'm pregnant!"

"What?" Sara nearly dropped the phone.

"Tom and I are going to have a baby!" Mary laughed joyfully. "I took a home pregnancy test, and it was positive!"

"Congratulations!" Sara exclaimed. "I can't believe it! I didn't know you were trying for a baby!"

"We just started," Mary said. "I didn't want to get your hopes up with mine right away. But … I guess things worked out pretty quickly."

"This is great news," Sara said enthusiastically. "Do you know when you're due?"

"No, not yet. I just made an appointment to see my doctor. Next week, I'll have more information for you." She paused. "Sara, Tom's mom is beeping in. Can I call you back?"

"Yeah, sure." Sara grinned. "Hey, Mar – congratulations. To both of you." She grinned even wider. "All three of you, I guess."

Mary laughed. "Thanks, Sara. I'll talk to you soon."

"All right. Bye."

"Bye."

Sara snapped her phone shut, but couldn't dim the beaming smile on her face. She knew that Mary would make a great mom. She couldn't wait to meet her little baby.

* * *

"So, the guy was so into alien activity that the other guy buried him at Area 51?" Warrick asked in disbelief. "He thought that's what he would have wanted?"

"Yup," Nick grinned. "He thought ET was dead, so he took the body all the way out there and buried it."

"Man, and I thought I had had some strange cases," Warrick said, shaking his head. He looked up as Sara entered the break room. "So, I hear that you're planning to let Elvis marry you and Nick," he teased.

Sara laughed. "Not until he gets out of jail for burying ET alive."

"And then taking over his business," Nick added.

"Oh, right," Sara laughed. "Well, it only makes sense. I mean, if you're both Elvis and an alien minister, you can just spread that much more love, right?"

Nick looked at her closely. "You're awfully chipper. What's up?"

Sara grinned. "Mary is pregnant," she said.

"That's great!" Nick exclaimed, genuinely excited for her. "When is she due?"

"She's not sure yet."

"Well, let me know when you're going to visit the new baby, and I'll send something for her."

"Nicky, you don't have to do that."

"I want to."

Warrick looked at him appraisingly. "I didn't know you liked kids that much, Nick."

He shrugged. "Try being an uncle to a bunch of kids. After awhile, you learn to love them."

"Hey, everyone," Catherine said as she came into the break room. She sank down in a chair next to Warrick.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking at her closely.

"Fine," she lied.

"Are you sure about that?" Nick asked.

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

They nodded as Grissom entered the room.

"I need a volunteer," he said by way of greeting.

Complete silence and stillness followed Grissom's proclamation. He looked at his team with raised eyebrows.

"No volunteers? Not even you, Miss Sidle?"

"Oh, no," Sara said, shaking her head. "I don't volunteer for you anymore. The last time I did, I ended up being dragged across the lab by my hair."

"All for scientific gain," Grissom said lightly.

"Yeah, Grissom, I don't think any of us are willing to volunteer blindly anymore," Nick grinned. "We've all ended up on the losing end of your experiments."

"What do you want us to volunteer for, Griss?" Warrick asked.

"To be a mentor," Grissom replied. "I know we've all shared responsibility when it comes to training Greg, but his proficiency showed that that's not working. So, I need someone who will be willing to take on training him and preparing him to redo his proficiency. I think if just one person is in charge, regardless of who teaches him what, we'll know that everything has been handled."

Sara felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Greg had _failed_ his proficiency? How was that possible? He had been so excited, they had all tried so hard to train him ... But, if Grissom was willing to give him another chance …

"I'll do it," Sara said without hesitation.

Grissom smiled. "_That_ was the response I was hoping to receive."

* * *

"Asking for volunteers?" Catherine asked as the meeting ended and Sara, Nick and Warrick left the break room. "Jim always just told us we were mentoring the newbies."

"Jim knew we were willing to do it," Grissom replied. "You can't force someone to be a teacher, Catherine. I wanted to see who was willing to take on the responsibility, and to do it right."

She nodded. "Smart move. You're learning how to be a supervisor."

"I'm trying," he said. He looked at her closely. "Are you okay?"

She sighed. "Let's just say it's been a rough week romantically."

Grissom looked at her sympathetically. "Do you need to talk?"

She stared at him for a moment. "Gil, you have no idea how much that means to me."

He nodded. "Do you want to go to my office?"

She shook her head. "We need to work. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

He nodded. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me." He started to walk away, then stopped, turning to look at her again. "Cath – come over for dinner after shift."

She grinned. "What? No breakfast?"

"Yeah," he laughed, "like we'll be home in time for breakfast. We've got a triple homicide tonight."

She grinned. "All right. Dinner."

He returned her grin and winked at her. "It's a date."


	4. Relationships

A/N: I'll be honest – I never expected to have this chapter done before next weekend. I was hoping I'd have a shot at posting it before premiere night, so I started writing like a madwoman yesterday … and, here it is! Again with the honesty – I love this chapter. I had the best time writing it, and I am so excited for you to read it that it's ridiculous. I hope you like it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Minimal inspiration and dialogue are from episode 502, "Down the Drain."

I also don't own _All My Children, Sopranos, Real World, Seinfeld_ or _Will and Grace_. I'm a big fan of all of them, though!

Grissom's definitions of "concern" and "worry" are from dictionary . com.

* * *

"I brought the alcohol."

Grissom laughed. "Hi, Catherine. It's great to see you, too. Won't you come in?"

Catherine laughed with him and stepped into his townhouse. "I just wanted to make sure we got the important stuff out of the way first."

Grissom smiled and took the bags from her hands. "Good grief, Catherine. Did you leave anything in the store for anyone else?"

"We have a lot to talk about," she replied, following him to the kitchen.

Grissom half turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow. "Have you been keeping secrets from me?"

Catherine raised her own eyebrow in imitation. "No more than you have from me."

"I have no secrets from you. You won't let me," he said, taking a bottle of red wine from one of the bags Catherine had brought. "Are you okay with this? It goes well with dinner."

"Oo, what are we having?"

"Angel hair pasta with red clam sauce."

Catherine closed her eyes in delight. "God, Gil, I love your clam sauce."

"I know," he smiled, uncorking the wine.

She looked at him suspiciously. "You're being awfully nice to me."

He gave her a glass of wine and a sympathetic smile. "You look like you could use a friend."

She nodded and took a sip of her wine. "You've got that right."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "I want to have dinner first. There's no reason to ruin angel hair and clam sauce with romantic entanglements."

"Good thinking," Grissom smiled. "Everything's almost ready to go."

"How can I help?" Catherine asked, putting her glass down on the counter.

"Can you bring that bread to the table?"

Catherine rolled her eyes as she picked up a basket of Italian bread. "I'll do my best."

Grissom chuckled as he prepared two plates of pasta, taking care to give Catherine's extra sauce. "I thought you could handle it."

Catherine put the bread on the table and returned for their glasses and the bottle of wine, while Grissom carried their plates to the table. They sat down, and Catherine gave him a beaming smile.

"Thank you for all of this. It's really very sweet of you."

He smiled and shrugged slightly. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments. Grissom knew that it wouldn't last long. Catherine was never one for a quiet meal. True to form, she was the one to break the stillness.

"When will Greg redo his proficiency?"

"When Sara thinks he's ready," Grissom replied. He sighed. "I made a terrible mistake with him, Catherine. I never should have let him take that proficiency so soon."

"It's not your fault," Catherine said firmly. "We all thought he was ready. Every single one of us had worked with him, and no one told you to hold off on his final proficiency. We're all to blame."

Grissom shook his head. "I'm the supervisor –"

"It's in the past," Catherine interrupted. "He made a stupid mistake, but now he knows not to do it again."

Grissom nodded. "You're right. As long as he learned something, this wasn't a wasted experience."

"Exactly. And, since his incredible supervisor was kind enough to give him another chance …"

Grissom smiled. "Greg will make an exceptional CSI. I couldn't give him up."

"I know. And, for some reason, I think Sara will do a great job of training him."

"She will," Grissom said at once. "I was hoping that she'd volunteer. I think she'll make a good mentor."

Catherine grinned. "Yeah – she likes to be in charge."

Grissom rolled his eyes.

"It's true!"

"I know." Grissom took a sip of his wine. "But, so do you."

Catherine smiled. "You didn't honestly expect me to volunteer, did you?"

"You're a great mentor, Cath."

She shrugged. "I was, once. But, now … I'm not sure I'm as good as I used to be about things like that." She sighed. "As much as you blame yourself for Greg's failure, I blame myself. I can excuse Sara and the guys for not telling you to hold off; they've never trained a newbie before. But, Gil, I worked with both Nicky and Warrick when they were new. I know what to look for, and somehow … I just didn't see that Greg wasn't ready." She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

Grissom shook his head. "If it's not my fault, then it's not yours, either. Like you said, the past is in the past, and we have to look forward."

She nodded and chinked her glass against his. "To the future."

He smiled. "But, as I recall, you were the one who told me that we need to deal with the past before we can move forward."

She grinned. "Sounds like something I would say to try to get you to spill some terrible secret to me."

"Of course."

"You want me to talk, don't you?"

"If you're ready."

She sighed. "I guess."

He smiled gently. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. But, I have a feeling that you wouldn't have come over here tonight if you didn't want to talk."

"You're right." She wrinkled up her nose. "Sometimes, I really _hate_ how well you know me."

He shrugged. "I'm a professional observer. I know things."

"All right, Mr. Observant … here goes," Catherine sighed. "I was seeing this guy – Chris."

"Chris," Grissom mused "I don't remember you mentioning him."

Catherine gave him a look of disbelief. "Seriously? The lab's official Man of Mystery has the _cojones_ to say something like that?"

Grissom smiled. "Fair enough. Please, continue."

"Well, it's not exactly a long story. Chris runs a nightclub – the Acid Drop. I was there yesterday to check an alibi, and he suggested that I come back later. When I did, the place was rockin' … and, so was his office."

Grissom made a face. "That doesn't sound good."

"It's not. He was … busy … with some young chickie."

Grissom grimaced. "What did he say when you walked in?"

"That I should have known to expect it, considering his profession."

"That's the most asinine thing I've ever heard!" Grissom exclaimed. "Working with scantily-clad women gives you no right to … to …"

"Bang every one you see?" Catherine supplied. "I know."

"What did you say?"

"You would have been proud of me," she smiled. "I didn't say a word. I just walked out. And," she concluded, "I'm never walking back through those doors." She took a sip of wine. "Men suck."

Grissom cleared his throat, and Catherine laughed.

"Sorry. I'll save that for the next time I'm out with Sara." She took another sip of wine and paused. "Which reminds me … has she said anything to you about her vacation?"

Grissom cleared his throat again. "No."

"Strange, don't you think? Most of us are thrilled to show off our pictures and tell our tales when we come back from a trip – especially after being gone for as long as she was."

Grissom shrugged. "She's a fairly private person."

Catherine laughed. "Maybe with you. But, she's opened up to me before, and I'm pretty sure that between the three of them, Nick, Warrick and Greg know all that girl's secrets."

Grissom's eyes widened. "She tells them her secrets?"

"Jealous?" Catherine asked. Her tone was light, but her eyes pierced into his soul.

"Of course not."

"Hm." She leaned closer. "I know I've asked you this before, but, please, Gil, tell me what's going on between you and Sara."

He sighed. "There's nothing to tell, Cath. We were friends, once. But, since she came to Vegas, we've … drifted apart."

She frowned. "So, moving closer drove you apart?"

"I know, it sounds absurd."

"No, it sounds like you." She looked at him closely. "And, you're not happy about it."

"No," he admitted quietly.

She shook her head. "Well, that's easy enough to fix! Stop being an ass to the girl!"

Grissom choked on his wine.

"I didn't realize that the idea of being a good person around a _friend_ would cause you so much physical grief," Catherine said dryly.

"No, it's just …"

"Just what?"

Grissom hesitated.

"You know, this is why you're so difficult," she said. "I've told you all my horrible relationship issues, and you won't even _consider_ opening up to me."

"I'm not trying to insult you," Grissom said sincerely. "I'm just … I have trouble expressing myself."

"That I'll agree with."

He sighed. "I do want to be her friend," he said quietly. "I just don't know how."

Catherine would have laughed if he hadn't been so serious. The honest, open look on his face begged for her help.

"Grissom, you are utterly ridiculous," she sighed. "Don't you realize what a good friend you are?"

He shrugged. "I've never been accused of _that_ before."

She smiled and shook her head. "You saw that I was upset today, so you invited me over and made my favorite meal for me. You thought that Greg deserved another chance, so you gave it to him. You knew very well that Warrick broke all the rules when Holly was shot, but you still called in a friend to investigate him, rather than leaving him at the mercy of IA. You've been a shoulder to cry on for all of us at least once, and you have never once judged any of us for our past wrongs or present faults. You are, and always will be, a good friend." She gave him a wry smile. "When you want to be, at any rate."

"So sweet, right up till the end," Grissom sighed.

"Haven't you been listening? You just have to be a good friend to Sara, and I know you'll be able to win her back. I think that losing your friendship has hurt her, too, and I think that rebuilding it will make both of you feel better."

He gave her a look of desperation. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Random act of kindness."

"What?"

Catherine shrugged. "Call her just to say hi. Split your next candy bar with her. Buy her coffee the next time you're at her favorite coffee shop."

Grissom frowned. "I don't even know what her favorite coffee shop _is_."

"Ask her." She smiled. "You're acting like you've never talked to her before."

"In some ways, I feel like I haven't."

"Well, you need to fix that. And, there's no time like the present."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Gil, being someone's friend isn't supposed to be hard," she smiled. "Was it hard for you to make me dinner tonight?"

"No, of course not."

"Well, then …"

"But, it's different with you," he blurted out. "We've known each other for years, we've been friends for years, we don't have …"

Catherine waited a moment. When he didn't continue, she decided to help him out. "A past?" she suggested. "Sexual tension? Any desire for 'something more?'"

"Yeah," Grissom nearly whispered.

Catherine smiled. "Make it happen, Grissom."

"Make what happen?"

She shrugged and half-smiled. "Whatever you want."

He sighed. "Cath, I'm sorry. I invited you over to make you feel better about everything with Chris, and I ended up dumping all my problems on you. That wasn't my intention when I asked you to come over for dinner. This really was supposed to be all about you."

"Are you kidding?" she laughed. "Being your therapist is one of my favorite things! It's like pulling teeth to get any information out of you at all! This has been the most fun I've had in ages!"

* * *

"Hey, Greggo."

"Hi, Sara," Greg said. He glanced up from the microscope. "Have DNA samples for me?"

"No."

"Picking up someone's results?"

"Nope."

"Just come to chat?"

"Uh-uh."

Greg sighed. "Whatever bizarre talents I might have, mind reading is not one of them. What can I do for you?"

Sara grinned. "It's more what _I_ can do for _you_, Greg."

His eyes lit up. "I thought you'd never ask!"

Sara laughed. "Down, boy."

"Damn it. I knew it was too good to be true."

She smiled and shook her head. "Listen, in all seriousness, I heard that your proficiency didn't go so well."

Greg sighed. "Good news travels fast around here."

"Well, I also heard that Grissom is giving you another chance."

"Yeah," he said, brightening somewhat.

Sara grinned. "Grissom has decided that you need an official mentor before you try this proficiency thing again."

"And, has Grissom decided who this mentor might be?"

Sara grinned even broader. "That would be me."

Greg's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You're going to be my mentor?"

"Yup. You're stuck with me from now on."

Greg grinned. "This is going to be so much fun."

Sara laughed. "You just think that I won't make you do as much grunt work as Nick and Warrick would."

"True."

She laughed again. "That's what you think."

"Well, you're going to have a tough time forcing me into being your bitch," Greg grinned. "I'm stuck in the lab until I can find myself a replacement."

"Don't worry," Sara said lightly. "We'll make it work."

Greg nodded.

"You're going to pass this thing, Greg," Sara said firmly. "I'll make sure of it."

Greg sighed. "Even you can't keep me from making stupid mistakes, Sara."

"No," she agreed. "But, I can make sure that you don't make my stupid mistakes all over again. And, that, my friend, will definitely help you in the long run." She grinned. "Believe me, I've made a lot of them."

Greg smiled. "And you want to be my mentor? I'm not sure I trust you if you're that stupid."

"Hey, if you don't want me, I'll go tell Grissom …"

"No!" Greg said quickly. "This will be fun."

Sara smiled. "You know it."

* * *

"Sara!"

Sara stopped on her way to the locker room and turned to see Grissom hurrying toward her. "Hi, Griss."

"How was court?" he asked, his eyes traveling up and down her body, taking in the sight of Sara in a suit.

She shrugged. "It was court," she replied. "Nothing unusual or evil about it."

He nodded. "Good."

"I'm just going to go change, and then I'm all yours."

Grissom could not deny the tingle that spread throughout him at her words. He could, however, ignore it. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay."

He smiled a bit apologetically. "I took Greg for his first autopsy."

"What?" Sara exclaimed. "Grissom! I wanted to be there for that!"

"I'm sorry," he said. "But, it needed to happen, the body was here, Robbins was ready to go …"

She sighed. "How did he do?"

Grissom smiled. "Why don't you let him tell you?"

She grinned. "Where is he?"

"DNA lab."

"Where else?"

"We'll find him a replacement," Grissom said. "I promise."

"I know," Sara replied. "Thanks, Griss. I'll go find him."

Sara left Grissom and walked straight for the DNA lab. Greg was sitting down, crushing a bone in preparation for extracting DNA. Sara sat down across from him.

"I heard you finally lost your virginity," she said in a deadly serious tone.

Greg looked up at her, wondering what on earth she was talking about.

"Your first autopsy," she grinned. "How was it?"

"It was fine." He looked back down at the bone. "How was your first time? How did you react?"

"I puked," Sara said simply.

Greg stopped working and looked straight into her eyes. "I didn't puke."

"Way to go, tough guy."

"It was weird, seeing the body laying on a table like that," Greg confessed. "Doc Robbins just pulling out his insides until he was all empty …"

"Were you expecting a ball of light?" Sara asked with a slightly sarcastic edge to her voice.

"Doc Robbins said that's all we really are."

Sara studied him for a moment. "It's what you do with it that counts," she said quietly.

Greg looked up at Sara. She gave him a slight smile, then got up to leave. She paused in the doorway.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for it," she said quietly.

Greg smiled. "It's all right. Grissom took good care of me."

"I'm sure he did."

* * *

It had been a disturbing case. The entire team agreed that this case had bothered them more than any in recent memory. It had been a long time since Brass had appeared in Grissom's office with a bottle of scotch to help them de-stress after an arrest. That alone spoke volumes.

A houseful of explosives. A father whose idea of bonding with his son was teaching him to blow things to pieces. A mother who turned a blind eye. A family who worked together to cover up a crime after a teenager killed a classmate in their home.

It was the stuff nightmares were made of.

But, Grissom had to admit that what bothered him most wasn't the dysfunctional family at the heart of the case. It was the way Sara had become while working the case. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her go after evidence with so little regard for her personal safety. His heart still missed a beat when he thought of Warrick's words.

"_Sara was determined to bring this back with us." He ran his hand over his face. "I helped her pull it off the hinges, but I thought that closet was going to blow up at any moment … I don't know why I didn't just grab her and run."_

Grissom couldn't deny that the closet door that Sara and Warrick had brought back to the lab was important evidence. But, he was sure that they could have made it though the case without it.

The fact that he would have had a different opinion if he had been at the house with them at the time was easy to ignore.

After Jim left his office, Grissom got up to go home. He had had enough.

He walked down the halls of the lab, slowing to a stop outside the A/V lab. Sara was sitting in the dark, watching the home movies she had collected from under their teenage criminal's bed. She stared at the screen, an expression of transfixed horror on her face as she watched a father instruct his son to press a button to blow up a toy truck.

Without taking time to consider what he was doing, Grissom walked into the lab. Sara didn't even turn around at the sound of the door opening.

"Sara? Are you all right?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice. "Fine," she said a bit shakily.

Grissom turned off the tape. "Come with me."

"Did I do something wrong? I promised to watch the tapes … I was looking for footage of the murder …"

"Calm down," Grissom said gently. "You haven't done anything wrong. I just think … that you need to get out of here."

"I'm fine," she said, trying to inject some strength into her tone.

He shook his head. "No, you're not. None of us is. This isn't the type of case that's easy to forget." He took a deep breath. "Come with me, Sara. Let's go have coffee."

A sparkle, a gleam of hope, jumped into her eyes. "Coffee?"

"Yes. I think … it would be good for both of us."

Sara nodded. "All right."

* * *

_It's just like Berkley all over again_. Sara couldn't keep the spring from her step as she and Grissom walked to the coffee shop a few blocks from the lab. She wondered how he had known that this was her favorite place to stop for coffee. A goofy grin spread across her face as he held the door for her. They were going to have such a good time.

* * *

_It's just like Berkley all over again_. Grissom was sure that he had been every bit as nervous the first time he had taken Sara out for coffee as he was this time. He bit his lip as he held the coffee shop door open for her. He hoped that she liked this particular café; it was his favorite, and he couldn't think of anywhere else to go. He just … he really wanted to help her. He hoped this would work.

* * *

"So, tough case, huh?" Grissom asked.

Sara looked up from stirring her latte. "I suppose," she said cautiously.

Grissom sighed and put down his coffee cup. "Sara, I'm concerned about you."

"Yeah, you said that before," she said. "I really think you're worrying over nothing."

"First of all, I'm concerned, not worried," Grissom said. "Second, you nearly killing yourself all for the sake of a blood-spattered door is not 'nothing.'"

Sara smiled and rolled her eyes. "Concerned, worried, it's all the same thing."

Grissom shook his head. "_Concern_ is an anxious state of interest. _Worry_ is an active state of agitated uneasiness and restless apprehension."

"Thanks, Miriam Webster."

"Sara, I'm trying to be serious here."

"So am I," she said. "I just wanted to recover the evidence, Griss. You know how important that is."

"Your safety _always_ comes first," he said with a surprising urgency in his voice. "You don't need to kill yourself for the sake of one piece of evidence."

"Okay," Sara said, surprised by how worked up he was getting over it. "I get it. I won't do anything so risky next time."

Grissom looked at her for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Yes, you will. It's part of what makes you _you_. I just … I hope that …"

"What?"

He shook his head. "Never mind." He cleared his throat. "You looked a little stressed out over those tapes."

"Oh, that," she said. She paused. "You know, there are some places where kids should be safe. Not just _feel_ safe, but _be_ safe. Home is one of those places. But, when your mom is videotaping your dad teaching you to blow up your toys, that safety is gone." She looked away. "Kids shouldn't have to worry about what's could happen to them once they're inside their front doors."

Grissom could feel his concern for her increase tenfold. "That's why we're here, Sara. To make sure that the kids are safe."

She gave him the saddest smile he had ever seen. "Sometimes, we're too late."

"But, not always."

"No," she agreed with a sigh.

Grissom looked at her closely. "Are you all right, Sara?"

She hesitated, considering what to say. She could tell him now. They were on the basic topic, she was dancing around it anyway, and Christina had said …

"I'm fine," she said. "Can we just … not talk about the case for awhile? I really don't think this is helping."

Grissom nodded. "Okay. What would you like to talk about?"

Sara cocked her head to the side, considering him for a moment. "What's your favorite tv show?"

"My favorite tv show?" he repeated.

"Yeah. Do you realize that we've known each other for about a hundred years, but I don't have any idea what your favorite show is?"

Grissom smiled. "I don't think it's been quite that long yet, dear."

The term of endearment was out before he even realized it. Once it was there, it seemed to hang in the air between them for a moment. Then, Sara's slightly flushed face relaxed into a smile.

"Regardless, I feel like I should know some trivial facts about you. I mean, I know that Catherine loves _All My Children_, Warrick is a fan of the_ Sopranos_, Nick watches sitcoms like it's his job and Greg never misses a _Real World_ marathon, but you …" She shrugged. "I don't know."

Grissom smiled, pleased that she had chosen not to comment on his choice of epithet for her. "I like baseball," he said. "I watch all the games I can. And the poker tournaments. And … I loved _Seinfeld_ when it was on." He raised his eyebrows. "What about you?"

"_Will and Grace_," she said without hesitation. "Clear favorite."

"I've never seen it."

"Never?" she exclaimed. "We'll have to fix that. I have the DVDs. We'll watch them sometime."

Grissom gave her a shy smile. "I'd like that."

Fully realizing what she had said, Sara felt her cheeks grow warm. "I'd like it, too."


	5. Sharing

A/N: Okay, I have to say … the premiere … whoa. I'm not going to ruin it for everyone who hasn't seen it yet, but if you want to discuss, feel free to PM me.

I also have to say that this chapter was rather frustrating to write. I just couldn't seem to get going on it. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI, _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ or _Anne of Green Gables_. Hm … maybe I should change this chapter's title to "A Salute to My Childhood." Hehe.

* * *

_Sharing_

"Hey."

Sara looked up from checking her email to give Grissom a smile. "Hey," she replied.

"Are you busy?"

She shook her head. "Just reading an email from Mary. She had her first appointment with her OB yesterday." She gave him a guilty smile. "Not that I'm checking my personal email at work, of course."

He grinned. "I'm sure you'd never dream of it."

"Of course not."

"So, how is she doing?" Grissom asked.

Sara's face lit up. "Great. The baby's due on June seventh. The doctor said that everything looks good so far."

"She must be really excited."

"She is." She shook her head. "You know, she never even said anything to me about wanting a baby until she was already pregnant. I thought you were supposed to tell you best friend stuff like this."

For some reason, her words struck Grissom in a rather profound way. It was as if she had handed him an invitation to share more of himself, to be more of a friend to her. He suddenly wanted to be the best friend who confided in her – and, in whom she confided. "Surprises can be good, you know," he heard himself saying.

Sara looked him with a slight frown. "I thought you didn't like surprises."

He shrugged. "Some are better than others. I'd say this was a very good surprise."

Sara smiled. "It was."

He glanced at his watch. "You know, shift ended almost an hour ago."

"I know. I just wanted to …" She trailed off, grinning apologetically. "I guess I wanted to illegally check my email. I'm on my way home right now."

His smile faltered, and a nervous look crept into his eyes. "Um … we wrapped our case already."

Sara looked at him in confusion. "I know, Griss. I was there. I helped you and Brass interrogate the suspect, remember?"

"Yeah," Grissom said. He licked his lips. "I was just wondering … would you like to go have a cup of coffee? You know, just to sort of … unwind?"

Sara felt as though fireworks exploded somewhere deep inside her, sending sparks flying throughout her entire body. A beaming grin lit up her face. "I'd love to," she said.

Grissom's face relaxed into a smile. "Great. Shall we?"

"Just let me log off."

Grissom waited while Sara logged off the computer and picked up her purse. She smiled at him, and they walked out of the lab together. The rest of their team had already gone home; Sara barely acknowledged the day shift CSIs as they passed them. She didn't really know them and felt no need to stop to chat. Apparently, Grissom shared her opinion.

Once again, they made their way to Sara's favorite coffee shop. She smiled at Grissom as he held the door for her.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They sat down at the same table they had occupied on their previous visit. Sara smiled at Grissom as she opened her menu.

"I meant to ask you before … how did you know that this is my favorite coffee shop?"

He looked surprised. "I didn't, to be honest. I just thought you might like it." He smiled slightly. "It's my favorite coffee shop, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've been coming here ever since they opened. I guess that was a year or two before you came to Vegas."

Sara nodded. "Nick brought me here after my very first shift when I started at the lab. He said that it was a good place to stop for coffee on the way home. I've been coming back ever since."

Grissom smiled. "I usually stop before shift. I suppose that's why we've never run into each other here."

"Well, I like it better like this," Sara said. "I'd rather come with a friend than alone."

Grissom's eyes widened slightly at her words and he smiled. He couldn't help but feel pleased to know that she considered him a friend. "Me, too," he agreed.

Their waitress appeared and took their orders for coffee and muffins. After she had left, Sara gave Grissom another smile.

"So, what turned you on to coffee?" she asked.

Grissom frowned. "What?"

She shrugged. "I hated coffee when I was a little girl, and even when I was a teenager. I had this 'uncle' – a friend of my parents', actually, no relation to me – who always told me that I'd never make it through college without coffee. I went in completely determined to prove him wrong – and I did." She grinned. "I didn't start drinking it till grad school. I took so many classes and seminars that I needed it to keep me awake. Mary was always drinking it, so she's the one who really talked me into trying it." She raised her eyebrows. "What about you?"

Grissom smiled, marveling at the way her mind worked. It was such an odd conversation, really, but he found himself reveling in learning these small tidbits of information about her. "I've always been a coffee drinker."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Babies don't drink coffee."

"No, I did!" Grissom exclaimed, his face completely serious. "When I was a child, I had this thing about being treated like I was older than I was. My aunt and uncle lived in the same town as we did; they had three children. The oldest is ten years older than me. One morning, when I was about three, my mother and my aunt took all of us out for breakfast together. My mom, my aunt and my oldest cousin all ordered coffee, and I demanded my own cup. According to my mother, I threw a horrific temper tantrum when she said that I was too little. Completely embarrassed, she had the waitress bring my milk in a mug, and poured a little bit of her coffee into it. It was just a taste, but it made me happy." He grinned. "So, as you can see, I have indeed always been a coffee drinker."

Sara rolled her eyes again. "Okay, I'll give you that one." She giggled. "You're lucky your mother let you stay at the restaurant for breakfast after that temper tantrum."

"So she always tells me."

Sara smiled at him as the waitress put steaming cups of coffee down in front of them. "Well, it's a good thing we learned to like it. If not, what would we do for fun now?"

Grissom smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sure we could think of something."

Sara felt her face grow warm and smiled. She wondered if he was having the same impure thoughts as she was.

* * *

"Hey, Greggo," Sara said as she walked into the DNA lab.

"Hello, Master Splinter," he smiled.

Sara laughed. "Sensei will be fine."

"Noted."

She glanced around the lab. "Are you busy?" she asked.

"I'm never too busy for you," he said with a huge smile.

Sara laughed again. "Okay, Greg, let's make sure that you know that I don't evaluate you, so there's no point in trying to blind me with the light bouncing off your teeth. Seriously, if you're too busy to come with me, just say so. I won't be offended."

"And I won't miss the chance to go into the field," he said. "Where are we going?"

"Well, technically, we're not leaving the lab."

"Okay, what are we doing, then?"

"Come with me."

Slightly mystified, Greg followed Sara to the layout room. Nick was waiting for them, carefully unloading what looked like enough glass to fill a picture window. Looking around, Greg noted the bent picture window frame that was on the table. He had a bad feeling about this …

"We're going to reconstruct that," Sara said.

His bad feeling was justified. "What?" he asked, hoping that she was teasing him.

"It's just like putting together a puzzle, Greggo," Nick said. "Okay, Sar, I think that's the last of it."

"Excellent," Sara smiled. She tossed Greg a pair of thick gloves. "We need to protect our hands."

Greg pulled them on, still staring at the glass. "We really have to put the window back together?"

"Yes," Sara said. "Our vic, a five foot ten male, went straight through it. We need to put it together to determine the point of impact. It could make all the difference."

"Okay," Greg said. "How do we start?"

"Easy," Sara said, taking a large piece of glass and fitting it against the window frame. "One piece at a time."

Sara and Nick were both there with him, but Greg felt the silence pressing all around him as they worked together. They didn't have a sustained conversation; the little snippets of dialogue that they exchanged were the only sounds aside from the chinking of the pieces of glass against one another. After the first hour, Greg felt ready to explode.

"Can't we please turn on some music?" he begged.

"Sure," Sara replied, "as long as Nick doesn't get to pick the genre."

"Hey!" Nick exclaimed.

She shook her head. "I will not spend time trapped in a small room with you listening to country music ever again, Stokes."

"No way, you listen to country?" Greg asked incredulously.

"I'm from Texas. It's in my blood," Nick shrugged. He smiled. "But, as I can see that I am in the minority here, you two can pick the music."

Sara and Greg exchanged a grin, and Greg turned on the radio.

Nick had never heard a room go from silent to punk rock so fast in his life.

* * *

The three of them worked together over the window for hours. Sara and Nick held back more than the normally would, wanting to let Greg handle the majority of the work. If he noticed their slight lack of active participation, he didn't comment.

They had just gotten the window back together, with Sara launching into a lengthy explanation of how to analyze a break pattern, when Grissom walked in.

"How is the window coming?" he asked.

"Done," Greg said proudly. "Sara was just trying to explain the break pattern to me."

Grissom turned to her. "Please, continue."

Sara kept talking, although she felt a bit more nervous with Grissom as part of her captive audience. When she had finished, Grissom turned to Greg.

"Okay, Greg, what can you tell me about how the victim went through the window?"

"Well, according to Sara, he was a five foot ten man. It looks like his head impacted here, which would mean that he was completely upright when he went through." Greg shook his head. "The poor bastard never saw it coming."

Nick and Sara looked at each other, both trying desperately to stifle their laughter. They turned away quickly, each afraid of making the other laugh.

"Right," Grissom agreed, unfazed by Greg's choice of phrase. "And, considering the fact that I just got his tox screen, it's pretty safe to say that it's amazing he was walking upright at all." He shook his head. "Greg's right. The poor guy was far too drunk to even see the window in front of him. He fell through all on his own."

"Ah, man," Nick sighed. "Another accidental death? That's the third one I've had this week."

"Doesn't that tell you that there's less murder out there?" Greg asked optimistically.

"No," Sara said sardonically, "it just tells us that there are more stupid people out there."

"Well, maybe one less now," Nick sighed. "Poor bastard."

This time, Nick and Sara looked at one another as they burst into laughter.

* * *

"Well, Sensei, thanks for a truly thrilling evening."

Sara laughed as she looked up to see Greg standing in the locker room doorway. "I'm sorry, Greg, but you have to learn how to do stuff like that."

"I know," Greg said. "It wasn't exactly the most exciting night I've ever had, but it really was a good experience. And, Sara, in all honesty, thanks for taking the time to teach me. I know that you and Nick could have had that thing back together in half the time, but you really let me do my own thing, and I …" He smiled and shrugged. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Greg," Sara said, thinking that that was the nicest thing anyone had said to her in a long time.

"Well, I'm off," Greg said. "Are you going home? I'll walk out with you."

Sara shook her head. "Not yet."

"Don't stay too late," Greg cautioned.

"I won't," Sara smiled. "I'll see you tonight."

"Bye."

Greg disappeared down the hall, and Sara finally stood up. Taking a deep breath, she made her way from the locker room to Grissom's office. He was inside, staring at something on his computer screen.

"Hi, Griss," she said as she stopped in the doorway.

"Hi, Sara," he replied, giving her a cheerful, genuine smile.

"Are you busy?" she asked.

"Not really."

She smiled. "Would you like to go out for coffee?"

Grissom returned her smile as he stood and walked around his desk. "I'd love to."

* * *

Sara had never dreamed that she and Grissom would have a "place" with a "booth," but, on this, their third trip to the coffee shop, it seemed that they did. She felt a happy tingling shoot throughout her at the thought.

"So, how did things go with Greg tonight?" Grissom asked.

Sara smiled. "I'm glad you asked. I wanted to talk to you about him."

"I'm listening."

"I … Grissom, thank you."

He frowned. "For what?"

"For giving me the opportunity to work with Greg," she replied. "I've never mentored anyone before, and doing it now … I'm learning as much about this job as he is. I've never looked at it this way, and I …"

Grissom smiled. "Teaching someone will do that to you."

She nodded. "You know, when we first met, I remember asking you why you would leave this job that you love so much to lecture at universities. For the first time, I truly understand why you did it."

His smile widened. "I'm glad you're mentoring Greg, too, Sara. There's no one I'd rather have training him."

* * *

Sara had known from the moment they got the call that it would be a bad case. It was always a bad case when a child was kidnapped.

It bothered Grissom. She could tell. He was as professional as always, but she knew that he was not handling this case like he would another. He always got that way when kids were involved.

Things went from bad to worse when little Alicia's body was found.

They went from worse to horrific when it was uncovered that her older brother had killed her to "save" her from donating the kidney that he needed to save his own life.

It went from horrific to unimaginable when it was revealed that the entire family was in on the cover-up of the murder.

When the evidence had all been processed, the statements taken, and the confessions heard, Sara pulled out her cell phone. She scrolled to Grissom's name, and sent him a text message. It was only one word.

_Coffee?_

His reply was only slightly longer.

_Meet me there in 15._

Fifteen minutes later, Sara walked into the coffee shop. Grissom was already sitting in their usual booth, his face a study in hidden emotions. His emotionless mask slipped when Sara sat down; he gave her a relieved smile.

"Thanks," he said without preamble.

"For what?" Sara asked.

"For thinking of this," he replied. "I really … needed some time to mentally wrap this one."

"It's been a tough one," Sara acknowledged.

Grissom shook his head. "That poor little girl. Her parents only had her to save her brother, and he ended up taking her life."

"I can't even imagine," Sara sighed. "The entire story is so twisted from beginning to end …"

Grissom shook his head. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure," Sara agreed. "You pick the topic."

He frowned slightly, considering a new topic of conversation. "Tell me about your first boyfriend."

Sara's eyes widened. She had not been expecting that. After thinking for a moment, she smiled. "We were in tenth grade. His name was Patrick. He was the captain of the mathletes." She grinned. "He was the reason I joined the mathletes. My science teacher was so upset. She wanted me to be in the science club instead. But, they met at the same time. What was a girl to do?"

Grissom laughed. "Such a waste of a scientist."

Sara shrugged. "I was always good at math, too. We won the state championship that year."

"Patrick must have been very glad to have you on the team."

"Not by then," Sara laughed. "We broke up after four months. Though, to be fair, four months in high school time is something like ten years in adult time."

"You stayed on the team even though you had broken up with Patrick?"

"I was committed," she said. "Once I commit to something, I don't go back."

Grissom swallowed, more than understanding the not-so-hidden meaning in her words. "No, you don't," he said quietly. "You always see it through to the end."

Knowing that they needed to get away from a heavy, emotional conversation, Sara smiled. "What about you? Who was your first girlfriend?"

"Well, I must admit, I was an earlier bloomer than you," Grissom said.

Sara laughed. "You started dating in junior high?"

"More like second grade," Grissom said. He smiled. "Her name was Anne. She said we belonged together because of some book …"

Sara frowned as she tried to figure how what book the little girl had meant, then burst into laughter. "_Anne of Green Gables_?" she asked.

"Sounds right …"

Sara nodded. "The main character, Anne, falls in love with a boy named Gilbert."

"Ah. Of course."

"So, what happened to you two? You were destined to be together!" Sara laughed.

"Well, she was a lovely little girl," Grissom said, rather enjoying this story. "She had long brown hair, and she loved bugs."

"Of course she did."

"She used to come over to my house after school. We'd go into the greenhouse, and my dad would tell us about the bugs that were flying around the plants." He smiled fondly. "I asked her to marry me, and she said yes."

Sara choked on her coffee. "How old were you again?"

Grissom grinned. "Seven."

"Well, don't stop now," Sara grinned. "Tell me about the wedding."

"Alas, our love was short-lived," Grissom said in mock torment. "I gave her my grandmother's ring as a symbol of our engagement. She was so pleased with it. Then, my mom found out, and made me get it back. Anne didn't take that too well, and broke off our engagement."

Sara giggled. "I hope you've had time to heal from the heartbreak."

"It's been tough, but I've muddled through till now."

"A broken heart can take a long time to recover," Sara said quietly.

Grissom looked at her intensely, knowing that they weren't talking about his second grade romance anymore. "Sometimes, you just have to find the right person to help it heal," he said softly.

Sara looked up at him, and their eyes locked. They stayed like that for a long time, staring into each other without speaking.

Sometimes, silence can say far more than words.


	6. The Competition

A/N: If the last chapter was hard to write, this one was the exact opposite. As one of my friends would say, it flowed from my fingers like fine wine. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI or, once again, the _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_. (Is anyone even getting my Ninja Turtles references??) Inspiration and a titch of dialogue are borrowed from episode 507, "Formalities."

Oh, yes, and to give proper credit, Grissom's line about school principals is adapted from something one of my coworkers said.

* * *

"Are you busy tomorrow night?"

Catherine looked up from the microscope in front of her. "No. Why?"

"I need a date for the banquet," Grissom replied.

"You're asking me the day before?" Catherine rolled her eyes. "How long have you known about this?"

"Oh, don't give me that," Grissom said. "You already said you're not busy, and I know you want to watch Ecklie assume his new position of Assistant Director. And, don't you want to be in the audience as I give a congratulatory speech?"

Catherine wrinkled up her nose. "You know, it's true what they say. Those who can't do their jobs really do get promoted."

Grissom nodded sadly. "My aunt was a teacher. I can remember her complaining about her principal … she said that they took a man who couldn't handle a classroom and gave him an entire building." He shook his head. "I guess it's the same everywhere. They've taken a man who can't handle a crime scene and given him the entire lab to control."

"It makes me sick."

"Well, it's probably for the best for the day shift. Maybe they'll be able to keep their people now," Grissom said. He smiled at her. "You know, with Ecklie's promotion, days will be looking for a new supervisor …"

Catherine smiled. "I've applied."

"I've recommended you."

Her smile deepened. "I'd love to be your date tomorrow night."

"I thought so," Grissom grinned. "Meet me at the hotel at seven."

"I'll be there."

"Great." Grissom started to walk away.

"Wait!" Catherine exclaimed, finally registering something he had said to convince her to attend the banquet.

He stopped and turned to look at her. "What?"

"You have to give a speech?"

He grimaced. "Since Ecklie and I are such … _good friends_ … the Sheriff felt it would be appropriate."

Catherine giggled. "How sweet."

Grissom glared at her. "This is _not_ funny."

She changed from giggling to outright laughter. "Yes, it is."

He shook his head. "I have a crime scene to get to."

The sound of Catherine's laughter followed him down the hall.

* * *

Grissom arrived early at the hotel. Knowing that he had a few minutes before Catherine would arrive – she was always fashionably late –, he pulled his bowtie out of his pocket, along with the diagram that showed how it should be tied. He had never done this before, but figured that it couldn't be that hard. Chuckling to himself, he thought that it didn't take a PhD to put on a bowtie.

He was still struggling with it fifteen minutes later when Catherine finally found him. He was standing in front of a mirror in the lobby, growing more annoyed by the minute.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm going insane," he said, dropping the ends of the tie and picking up the instruction sheet. "I don't understand this diagram!" he exclaimed, the frustration evident in his voice.

Catherine sighed and shook her head, looking at him sympathetically. "You don't need a diagram," she said. "You need a woman."

She stepped up behind him and took the ends of the strip of fabric from his hands, deftly tying it into the proper bow. Grissom raised his eyebrows both at her words and her actions.

"I'm looking forward to your speech," she said.

Grissom rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Of all the things to have to do …"

Catherine grinned. "What? Aren't you happy for your _good friend_?" she teased.

Grissom groaned. "This is my hell."

"No, I just saved you from your hell. Your tie is done. Come on, let's go. We're going to miss the salad course."

"_You_ were the one who was late," Grissom said.

"_You_ were the one who wasn't dressed," she shot back.

Grissom shook his head and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Catherine grinned and took his arm. "We shall."

He looked at her as they walked toward the ballroom. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she smiled. She glanced at him. "You look great, too."

"Thanks to you," he smiled. "If I had been on my own for this, I'd still be in front of that mirror, trying to figure out this tie."

She smiled at him. "I must admit, I have a soft spot for a man in a tux."

He laughed. "Well, don't get used to it. This is probably the only time I'll wear one."

"Never say never," she said as they sat down at their table.

As the banquet began, Grissom found himself in over his head. He was never good at making small talk and always shied away from office politics. Catherine, on the other hand, was fairly good at both, and, though her prodigious skill, managed to make both of them look good. Grissom found himself very thankful, once again, to be able to count her as a friend and ally.

The evening was full of speeches about what a wonderful person Conrad Ecklie was, and how fortunate the lab was to have him as its new assistant director. Grissom found it difficult to keep his dinner down as he listened to one person after another sing Ecklie's praises.

Finally, it was Grissom's turn to step up to the microphone. Just as he was introduced – as Ecklie's colleague and good friend – his pager went off. Catherine shot him a look as he picked it up.

"Gil?" she asked pointedly.

"I've got a 419," he said.

She gave him a look she generally reserved for her daughter. "Don't even think about it."

Explaining that he was on call, he jumped up from the table, telling Catherine to give his speech for him. He tossed her the napkin he had been writing on as he shot out of the room. Catherine unfolded the napkin to find one line: _What can I say about Conrad Ecklie?_ Thinking that Grissom owed her _big_, she got up from her chair and made her way to the podium.

"Unfortunately, Dr. Grissom has been called away to a crime scene," Catherine said. "Apparently, the Sheriff forgot to warn the criminals of Las Vegas that he needed the night off."

Polite laughter rippled through the room at her light attempt at humor. She smiled.

"I, too, am a colleague and friend of Conrad Ecklie. I know that I speak for Dr. Grissom and the entire CSI graveyard shift when I say that we are so pleased and excited for him in his promotion. His appointment as the lab's assistant director will bring a new perspective and energy into the lab, which will shape the way in which we all do our jobs. I'm sure that the highest compliment we can give him is to do our best to make sure that our lab retains the high level of esteem that it has enjoyed for so many years, and I know that we are all committed to doing just that. And, so, Conrad, on behalf of the graveyard shift, congratulations and good luck."

She sat down to polite applause. Ecklie gave her his usual forced smile.

"Was that Grissom's speech or yours?" he asked as he rose to give his own speech.

"I would never steal another's words," Catherine said evenly. "I'm sure that Grissom's speech wouldn't sound right coming from me."

"Hm," Ecklie murmured. "Well, thank you."

He stepped up to the podium and began to speak. Catherine reached for her glass of wine and downed it in one gulp.

Grissom most definitely owed her. Maybe a new car would be an appropriate price … as long as it had leather interior.

* * *

It was strange, working with someone new.

Sofia Curtis, the "Catherine" of the dayshift, had been called out to work the crime scene with Grissom. Grissom barely recognized her in her evening gown. She, like Catherine, looked beautiful.

Beautiful, but annoying.

She had the most aggravating habit of talking to herself as she processed the scene. Grissom did his best to tune her out, thinking for the first time that he may have been better off _without_ the surgery to correct his hearing. He was sure she was going to make him crazy.

At least he wouldn't have to work with her for long. Once this case was over, she could go back to the day shift where she belonged.

* * *

Catherine could see in a moment that Sofia was interested in Grissom.

It was obvious in the way she looked at him, how close she stood to him, the flirtatious comments she threw at him.

Obvious to Catherine, at any rate. As usual, Grissom remained oblivious.

Catherine knew that she would have to step up and tell him what was going on. Of course, there was always the option of getting rid of Sofia. Catherine would never trust anyone who was that close to Ecklie.

"So, how are things on days?" she asked as she and Sofia processed evidence together.

"Fine," Sofia said evenly. She glanced at Catherine. "I heard that you applied for the supervisor's position."

"Well, Ecklie's promotion does leave an opening."

Sofia nodded. "I've been appointed acting supervisor."

"I would expect nothing less," Catherine replied. "I've taken over for Grissom plenty of times when he's been out of town. It doesn't mean I want his job."

"Grissom still has his job as shift supervisor," Sofia replied. "The same can't be said for Ecklie."

"Hm," Catherine agreed. She could feel her dislike for this woman mounting.

"Do you know … can you tell me … is Grissom seeing anyone?"

Catherine nearly choked on her tongue. "Oh, honey," she said. "I wouldn't go there if I were you."

Sofia raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

Catherine smiled sympathetically. "No."

"He's taken, then?"

"As far as you're concerned … yes."

Sofia looked at her for a moment, knowing that the battle lines were drawn. Catherine may not want Grissom for herself, but she clearly didn't feel that he should be with Sofia. Sofia gave her a slight smile.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Sofia Curtis did not go down without a fight.

* * *

"You owe me _so_ big!"

Grissom smiled. "Catherine, you are the most wonderful friend I could ever ask for."

She rolled her eyes. "I saved your ass, and that's the best you can do?"

He smiled again. "What exactly did you say? Ecklie saw me earlier and asked for a copy of my speech."

"Oh, I told him straight out that I didn't give your speech."

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"He asked," Catherine explained. "I said that your words would never sound right coming from me." She grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Are you going to get him a copy of that speech?"

"It's on my to do list."

Catherine laughed, then jumped out of her seat.

"Are you that offended?" Grissom asked as she ran toward his office door.

"No, I just saw Sara walk past, and I need to talk to her."

"See you later," Grissom said as Catherine shot out the door.

"Sara!"

Sara stopped and turned to face her coworker. "Hi, Catherine."

"Hey, I stole Greg for the evening, but you can have him back."

Sara looked at her with a confused frown. "What?"

Catherine grinned. "I had him watching surveillance tapes from the hotel where the Macklin girl was kidnapped. We're taking _hours_ of tapes. He's not too thrilled with me right now."

Sara laughed. "Well, Grissom's sending me on a road trip. I'll take him along."

"I'm sure he'll be glad to get out of the lab." Catherine looked thoughtful. "He said that Grissom promised him he could do his proficiency the next time he was out in the field."

Sara shrugged. "News to me. I'd like to give him a little more time, but if it's what Grissom wants …"

"Well, Grissom needs to be there to evaluate him, so it's definitely not happening today."

"Are you guys still working the Macklin case?"

"Yes, with a bit of help from Sofia Curtis."

Sara frowned. "Who is she?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Haven't you met her? She works days. She's Ecklie's right hand." She made a rather lewd gesture that had Sara dissolving into a fit of giggles. "I'm serious, Sara … that girl is _way_ too close to him. It makes me nervous just working with her on this one case." She shook her head. "Grissom had better watch his back."

"You know how he is about politics," Sara said. "I don't think it would ever even occur to him to worry about her."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Catherine bit her lip. "She's …" She trailed off and shook her head. "I need to talk to Grissom about her."

Sara looked concerned. "You don't think she'd do anything to jeopardize his job, do you?"

Catherine shrugged. "At this point … I'm not putting anything past her."

Sara glanced at her watch. "I need to find Greg and get to my scene before David thinks I'm not showing. Listen … good luck with Sofia. If you need any help talking to Grissom, let me know."

"Thanks," Catherine smiled. "Good luck tonight."

"Thanks." Sara gave her one last smile, then took off down the hall to find her protégé.

She found him in the break room. He was drinking a cup of coffee, and looked rather lost.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I've been replaced!" he exclaimed.

Sara laughed. "Old news, Greg. Mia's been here for awhile now."

"Two weeks, to be exact," Greg said. "In my book, that means she's staying."

"You were concerned?"

"After what happened with Chandra … yeah. I've been trying to help her out, but today she pretty much kicked me out of the lab. I think that means I'm good to go in the field anytime you want."

"Good," Sara said cheerfully. "How does now work for you?"

"Now would be great," Greg said eagerly. "I can escape from Catherine and those damn tapes!"

"Grab your kit," Sara smiled. "We're going to check out a homicide at a seedy motel."

Greg grinned. "I've been waiting to do one of those forever!"

Sara laughed. "I'm glad I could make your dreams come true."

"Oh, I've had plenty of dreams involving you," Greg said with a grin. "A seedy motel might be just the place to make more than one of them come true."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Sara said, making a face. "First, not gonna happen. Second, I'll have you know that I am _not_ a seedy motel kind of girl. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Greg said, struggling to keep a straight face.

She smiled and shook her head. "Go get your kit, grasshopper. I'm driving."

"Of course you are, Master Splinter."

Greg took off, and Sara laughed again. She could officially say that she loved working with him.

* * *

"Where exactly is this seedy motel?" Greg asked as Sara took yet another turn that led even farther off the beaten path.

"Way out of town," Sara said. She grinned. "Not all the seedy motels are on the Strip."

"Fair enough." Greg looked out the window for a moment. "Can we play Truth or Dare?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No."

"Greg …"

"I'm bored," he whined.

"Good for you," Sara sighed. "I will not do anything that involves a 'dare' in this car. I'm driving! If I follow through on some stupid dare, I'll probably wreck the car. We could both end up dead, and Nick and Warrick will have to process our poor, broken bodies. Do you really want to put them through all that just because you were _bored_?"

Greg laughed. "Okay, I'll take that as a 'no' on the game."

"Why don't you practice processing the car?" Sara suggested.

"What?"

"Start fingerprinting the dashboard."

"Are _you_ kidding _me_?"

"Nope. Get to work."

Greg sighed and reached into the backseat for his kit. Sara smiled as he began fingerprinting the dashboard.

Sometimes, she had to admit, it was a little fun kicking him around.

* * *

"Hey, are you guys busy?"

"No," Nick said.

"Not tonight," Warrick said.

"Great," Sara smile. "I want to take Greg out for a drink. Wanna come?"

"Sure," Nick agreed. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh, I'm feeling a bit guilty," Sara admitted. "I sort of made him fingerprint the dashboard while we drove to our scene."

Nick and Warrick both burst into laughter.

"Why on earth would you do that?" Nick asked.

"He said he was bored," Sara shrugged. "He actually suggested that I play Truth or Dare with him to pass the time."

"Man, we need to get that boy a magnetic chess set," Warrick laughed. "Maybe that would amuse him during these long car trips."

"He needs something," Sara agreed. "Come on. Let's go get him and hit the bar."

* * *

Greg was more than willing to go out for a drink, particularly when Sara told him that she was buying. The four colleagues made their way to their favorite bar and sat down at a table in the back. They ordered beers and began to chat. They were on their second round when Sara brought up the topic she had been dying to discuss since they had sat down.

"So, have you guys met this Sofia that Catherine was telling me about?" Sara asked.

Nick grinned. "You mean Ecklie's right hand?"

Sara laughed. "Did she do the same gesture when she told you that?"

"Yup," Nick laughed. "Catherine _really_ hates that woman."

"Is she that terrible?"

"Well, I can tell you this," Warrick said, "Sofia doesn't think _Grissom's_ that terrible."

Sara frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She's totally into him."

Sara's mouth dropped open. "Sofia's into Grissom?"

"Oh, yeah," Nick agreed. "I saw her hitting on him. She's not even subtle!"

"With Grissom, I don't know that subtly is the best way to go," Warrick laughed. "Somehow, I have a feeling that he'd miss it."

Sara shook her head. "Catherine didn't say anything …"

"Oh, you know Catherine," Greg said. "She loves to collect gossip, but she's not one for spreading it around."

"Yeah, and if it's something personal about Grissom, I don't think she'd ever share," Nick said. "Those two are tight. Her first loyalty is to him."

"Good point," Sara mused, thinking that maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could break into Catherine's bunker of information about Grissom.

"But, Nick and Warrick are right," Greg said. "Sofia wants Grissom … hardcore."

"So, tell me," Warrick said with a wicked grin, "do you think that Grissom will sleep with Sofia?"

Sara choked on her beer. Nick reached over to thump her on the back.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she coughed.

Warrick rolled his eyes at her. "Should we get you a straw?"

"No, I'm good," she replied, wrinkling her nose at him.

"Well, as long as Sara's not dying … back to my question …"

"I vote no," Nick said. He made a face. "Honestly, the idea of Grissom having sex with anyone is a bit troubling to me."

"I say yes," Greg said.

Nick looked at him with raised eyebrows, and Greg shrugged.

"The guy deserves some fun," he said.

Warrick laughed. "Sara?"

"I abstain," she said. "I have no idea who Sofia even is. You'll have to point her out to me."

"We will," Greg promised. "What do you vote, Warrick?"

Warrick looked thoughtful. "He might … assuming he's into having sex."

They all looked him as though he had lost his mind.

"What?" Warrick asked. "He might be saving himself for marriage."

"I could see that," Greg said.

Nick shook his head. "Okay, guys, enough. This is getting weird. Let's leave Grissom's personal life alone. If you want to talk about someone having sex, make it someone who's at the table."

"Fair enough," Warrick agreed. "Anyone having sex?"

"At the moment, no," Nick laughed.

"Sara, want to help me change that?" Greg teased.

"Not if you were the last somewhat sober man in this bar," she laughed.

"Ouch," Nick laughed.

Greg shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"Okay, guys, pick the topic," Warrick said.

They moved on to a conversation about high school dances. Nick told them all about interviewing the kids involved in Janelle Macklin's "kidnapping." Laughing, they all agreed that high school wasn't what it used to be.

With their conversation spiraling further and further away from Grissom and Sofia, Sara felt herself relaxing. She loved going out with these three guys. As much as she sometimes hated the information they gave her, she had to admit that they were good sources. She would have to look into this Sofia and see if she really was after Grissom.

Because, if she was … Sara just might have something to say about it.

* * *

"You need to be careful with her."

Grissom and Catherine had finally managed to wrap their case, and had gone back to Grissom's townhouse for dinner and drinks. Grissom looked at her blankly after her proclamation.

"What are you talking about?"

"Gil, she's into you!" Catherine exclaimed. "Are you so completely blind that you can't see that?"

"Who's into me?"

"Sofia!"

Grissom's eyes widened. "Why in the world would she …?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "How many times do I need to tell you to get your head out of the microscope? It's fairly obvious. I mean, how many women would actually superglue a bowtie together for a man?"

Grissom had to admit that that was a little odd. Sofia could have easily returned the bowtie he had dropped at their crime scene without tying it for him, and certainly without gluing it. He shook his head, realizing that Catherine was right.

"But, I don't … she's not …" He stammered into silence and looked at Catherine a bit desperately. "I don't even _know_ her! How could she think that I …?"

"Do you want to get to know her better?" Catherine asked.

Grissom hesitated, unsure of what his answer was.

"You need to be careful with her," she said again. "The girl is pretty, but she's so far up Ecklie's ass …"

Grissom made a face. "Good choice of words, Cath."

Catherine laughed. "I'm serious, Gil! She's a political genius, really, which is something that you most certainly are not. You need to watch your back, or she could influence Ecklie into making your life miserable."

"Because _that_ would be a change from his normal behavior toward me," Grissom said sarcastically. "Conrad has wanted me out of here for years. The only reason he hasn't made firing me his first priority is that he knows that I'm a valuable asset to the lab." He made a face. "As much as I hate to say it, there aren't many people out there with my background, and there are even less people with my background who would be willing to work in CSI. The lab needs me. Conrad knows that, and he knows that there would be hell to pay if he got rid of me."

Catherine's eyebrows had gone up so far while he talked that they practically disappeared into her hairline. "I think that's the most I've ever heard you talk yourself up."

Grissom shrugged. "I can do it on occasion."

Catherine sighed. "Look, Grissom, I'm just saying …"

He smiled at her. "Don't worry, Catherine. I can handle this."

"Are you sure?"

"I think so."

"And you'll be careful?"

He gave her a look of annoyance.

"Okay, okay," she said, holding up her hands. She shook her head. "This would be so much easier if you'd just say that you want nothing to do with her."

He gave her a teasing smile. "Are you jealous?"

"No … just worried about the consequences."

"Well, there's no need to worry." He shrugged. "Aside from everything else, she works days and I work nights. What are the chances we'll ever have to work together again?"

"Hm," Catherine said, taking a sip of her drink. "For your sake, let's hope slim to none."


	7. The Split

A/N: I'm really sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm certain that I won't have another chapter posted until the fifteenth or sixteenth of this month at the earliest. I'm the maid of honor in my friend's wedding next Saturday, so that's going to suck up my entire week. I'm really excited about the wedding, but it's not very conducive to writing. So, I apologize, and thank you in advance for your patience.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Major inspiration and minor dialogue come from episode 509, "Mea Culpa."

* * *

_The Split_

"Well, I can tell you one thing about the vic."

"What's that?" Sara asked, looking up from the pants she was processing.

Greg grinned at her. "He wore some ugly clothes."

Sara laughed. "Fair point, but it doesn't get us any closer to ID-ing him."

"Or knowing for sure what happened to him," Greg added.

"Well, this might get us a little closer to that one," Sara said. "Check this out."

"What?" Greg asked, abandoning the shirt he had been working on to look at the pants she had spread across the table.

"See the GSR? What can you tell me about it?"

Greg studied the gunpowder surrounding the bullet hole in the leg of the pants for a moment. "It's really concentrated," he said. "I've never seen so much GSR all in one small space like that."

Sara nodded. "It indicates that he was shot at close proximity," she said.

"So –" Greg began.

"Hey."

Sara and Greg both looked up as Grissom stepped into the layout room. He was dressed in the blue suit that tended to make Sara feel a bit weak in the knees, and looked rather preoccupied.

"Hi, Griss," she smiled.

"What's with the suit?" Greg asked.

"Court," Grissom said shortly. "You two might want to go check on Bobby Dawson."

"Why?" Sara asked.

"He just AD-ed the gun in your case."

"My God!" Sara exclaimed. "Is he all right?"

"Yeah, he's fine. Still, you might want to …"

"Yeah," Sara agreed. She looked at Grissom closely. "Are _you_ all right?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine."

"Griss …"

"We'll talk later, okay?" he asked, looking at Sara deeply.

"Okay," she said quietly.

He nodded, and left. Greg turned to Sara.

"He can't possibly be that upset about Bobby AD-ing a gun, can he?"

"No," Sara said slowly. "What is going on around here?"

Greg shrugged. "Think Bobby might know?"

"Can't hurt to ask."

They made their way through the lab to ballistics, where Bobby had already begun to work on the gun they had recovered right next to their victim. He gave them a small smile.

"You two trying to kill me?"

"My God, Bobby, are you all right?" Sara asked. "Grissom just came and told us what happened."

"I'll live," he replied. "This gun is my priority right now. Anything that ADs in this room always takes top priority."

Sara shook her head. "You are sure you're all right?"

"Oh, I'm fine," he said. "A little shaken up, but otherwise …" He smiled sheepishly. "I'd probably feel better about the whole thing if Ecklie hadn't been right there when it happened."

Sara grinned. "He does make it a habit to catch people at their worst, doesn't he?"

"That he does." Bobby paused and looked around to make sure that they were quite alone. "Speaking of … What's going on with Grissom?"

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?" Greg asked.

"Grissom was testifying at a retrial for a man who's been in jail for five years," Bobby began.

"Right," Sara said, remembering the suit Grissom had been wearing when he found her and Greg. Without even realizing she was doing it, she wiped her hand down her neck. Why was it so hot in the ballistics lab?

"Well, apparently, while he was on the stand identifying evidence, he found a new print on a matchbook," Bobby said.

Sara's eyes widened. "A new print?"

"Yes."

"The suspect's?" Greg asked.

"That would be a no."

"Oh, man," Sara sighed. "This isn't good. What's happening with it now?"

"I'm not sure, but I can tell you that Ecklie is breathing down his neck."

"I'm sure," Sara murmured.

Bobby sighed. "I really hope I didn't make things worse for him."

"How could you?" Greg asked.

"Well, what with your gun AD-ing and all …"

Sara shook her head. "Accidental discharge is just that, Bobby – _accidental_. Ecklie can't get mad at you over a gun going haywire." She bit her lip. "Though, the fact that it's a potential murder weapon in the case Greg and I are working isn't necessarily _good_ …"

Bobby smiled. "Way to make me feel better about it, Sara."

She laughed. "I'm sorry." She looked at Greg, then back at Bobby. "I think we need to get back to those clothes. Just page me when you know something about the gun, all right?"

"You got it."

Sara gave him one last smile and left the room with Greg on her heels.

"We're not really going back to those clothes, are we?" he asked. "We've got to find out what's going on with Griss!"

"You're going back to the clothes," Sara said. "I'll find out what's going on."

Greg's face fell. "You really know how to suck the fun out of this job, don't you?"

Sara laughed. "I'll give you the gossip as soon as I have it."

"That's only a small consolation," Greg sighed as he disappeared into the layout room.

Sara laughed again as she left him. She walked quickly down the halls, thinking that she had to find either Nick or Warrick to get the full story on Grissom's phantom fingerprint. She would have loved to ask Grissom himself, but she had a feeling that he wouldn't be ready to talk about it just yet.

* * *

She finally managed to find Nick after what felt like hours of searching. He was staring at a computer screen, transfixed by several fingerprints.

"There you are!" she exclaimed.

Nick looked up and smiled at her. "I didn't know I was lost."

"Well, I couldn't find you," she replied.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"You can tell me what's going on around here."

"Ah," Nick said. "Well, it would appear that a matchbook that Grissom printed five years ago finally decided to let a print show up. Unfortunately, it didn't do that until Grissom had to identify the matchbook in court today."

Sara shook her head. "So, Bobby was right about that."

"You're getting your gossip from Bobby now? I'm hurt! I thought I was your best source of gossip!"

"Actually, that would be Greg," Sara laughed. "But, maybe if you were around more, I could have gotten this from you."

"I'll have you know that I've been very busy trying to save Grissom's ass," Nick grinned. "He's asked Warrick and me to reopen the case. Cath's helping us with it."

"And?"

Nick sighed. "It looks like the suspect – the man who's been in jail for five years – may have been innocent."

"Shit," Sara whispered.

"Yeah," Nick said. He paused. "Ecklie's using this as an excuse to review Grissom's work, too."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"He's got Sofia investigating his handling of this case."

"That's completely unfair!" Sara exclaimed. "She's in Ecklie's pocket! She's going to say whatever he wants her to say!"

"I know," Nick sighed. "This doesn't seem good, does it?"

Sara shook her head and bit her lip. "This isn't good at all."

"That _bastard_!"

Sara and Nick both jumped as Warrick stormed into the room.

"What happened?" Sara asked.

"Ecklie, that's what!" Warrick yelled.

"Okay, partner, slow down," Nick said in his calm, southern drawl. "What did Ecklie do to you?"

"He ambushed me in the hall," Warrick said. He was talking at a normal level again, but the agitation did not leave his voice. "I told him I was busy, but he said it would only take a minute …"

"What would only take a minute?"

"He took me into his office and started grilling me about Grissom," Warrick said. He paused. "Okay, 'grilling' might be a bit harsh, but he asked exactly the questions he needed to prove that Grissom can't do his job." He paused and looked away, then turned back. "He asked me if I had turned in those hairs in to Trace five years ago like Griss assigned me, which I hadn't –"

"Wait," Nick said. "You said that you didn't need to. The case was solid without them."

"I know that, and you know that, but, to Ecklie, it looks like Grissom couldn't control me. Like I refused to take his orders and he was okay with it."

"Oh, man," Nick said, exhaling.

"Right. Then, he goes on and on about how great my file is and how great I am at my job, then throws in my gambling problem."

"Not to be rude, but that's not Grissom's fault," Sara said. "That's more like Ecklie's trying to make _you_ look bad."

"Yeah, I thought so, too, right up until he asked if Grissom had set me up with departmental services to help with my problem."

"Did he?" Nick asked while Sara screwed up her face.

"No."

"What did you tell him?" Sara asked quietly.

"The truth," Warrick said. He ran his hands over his face. "By that point, I was so turned around that I didn't have any idea what was going on anymore. The man's worse than a defense lawyer." He shook his head. "I don't know, guys … this doesn't look good. I'm scared for Griss."

"What are you saying?" Sara asked.

"I'm saying that Ecklie's wanted Grissom gone for years, and he's finally found a way he can do it." He shook his head again. "You guys had better watch out. He'll probably be after you next."

"We'll just have to avoid him," Sara said at once.

"That won't work," Warrick said. "Believe me, I tried."

"Well, we'll just have to be careful about what we say, then," Nick said. "Now that we're prepared, we'll know to make sure we phrase things to show Grissom as the awesome supervisor that he is."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "Don't worry, Warrick. Everything will work out."

"That _bitch_!"

The three of them jumped as Catherine walked into the room, looking every bit as upset as Warrick. They exchanged glances.

"Um …?"

"Sofia!" Catherine exploded. "She's in there right now, working on proving that Grissom can't do his job."

"Did she tell you that?" Sara gasped.

"No, but you know exactly what's going on. Ecklie's assigned her to review Grissom's handling of this case five years ago, and you know that she'll find what Ecklie wants her to find," Catherine spat. She gave them a half-smile. "Naturally, I tried to snoop through the files, but she's too quick for me."

"I'd expect nothing less of you," Warrick laughed.

Catherine sighed. "I told her that Grissom did everything right with that case. He always does. We aren't one of the top crime labs in the country because Grissom's a negligent supervisor."

"How did Sofia take being told how to do her job?" Nick asked.

Catherine made a face. "Oh, you should have heard that self-righteous little … '_I think it's prudent to reserve my findings for the Assistant Director_.'" She finished with a grimace. "I _told_ Grissom that she's too far up Ecklie's ass to be trusted!"

"Yeah, well, you know Griss," Warrick said. "He doesn't like being told what to think of people."

"I know," Catherine sighed. She pursed her lips. "I'm worried, guys."

For some reason, the idea that Catherine was worried scared Sara more than anything that Nick or Warrick had said. She felt the blood draining from her face.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" she asked quietly.

Catherine shook her head. "At this point, it's out of our hands."

* * *

With Catherine's calm-yet-desperate assertion that there was nothing to be done about Grissom and Ecklie, Sara fell back on her best distraction: work. She found Greg in the layout room and took him to the morgue for their vic's autopsy.

After talking to both Doc Robbins and Bobby, Sara and Greg determined that their genius victim had tried to convert his gun into a machine gun. In the process, he managed to accidentally shot himself in his femoral artery.

"He probably never even pulled the trigger," Sara told Greg. "That gun was so mangled … I mean, if it can AD in Bobby's hands, this garage gunsmith never stood a chance."

"Okay," Greg said. "So, that's it, then? Accidental death? Case closed?"

Sara shook her head as she led him to the garage. "We still need to see what we can get from this serial number."

"I thought that Bobby D. said it was obliterated."

"It was. But, we're going to undo that."

Greg smiled. "Always one step ahead of the criminals, right?"

"I like to be one step ahead of someone," Sara replied with a smile. "Put the gun in the vise. I'm going to get our tools."

"So, I'm confused," Greg said as he secured the gun. "Do we think the dead guy bought a defective gun, or was he selling a gun he'd already modified?"

"Maybe he modified it for his own use," Sara said.

"Well, if that was the case, then why would he file down the serial numbers?"

"Good point," Sara said with a smile. She was proud of Greg. He was a quick study.

She talked him through the process to reveal the serial number, then sent him off to run the number. Hopefully, it would lead them to the identity of their victim.

"Excuse me."

Sara looked up just in time to see Greg narrowly avoid running into Ecklie. Knowing that her turn had finally come, she continued working on the gun.

"Sara," Ecklie said jovially as he entered the room. "Got a minute?"

"I guess," she replied, barely hiding her smile. This man was so ridiculously transparent. He never sought her out for a positive reason, and now he was trying to be her friend? _Please_.

His charade of camaraderie continued as he made an attempt at teasing Sara about polishing her jewelry at work. Knowing that she couldn't take much more of this, Sara decided to cut him off before he started talking about the weather in an attempt to put her at ease.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

"As you know, it's my job to review everyone's file. I just wanted to make sure that you finished up with your PEAP counselor."

"That's none of your business, Ecklie," she said, trying to keep her voice even.

"Well, not only is it my business, but I plan to speak with your supervisor."

"About what?" Sara asked, all veneer of professionalism quickly slipping away.

"You have updated him, right?"

_Save Grissom_. It was the only coherent thought Sara had. She had to say something to make this work in Grissom's favor. Thinking back to the one time they had attempted to discuss her PEAP counseling, she decided to bend the truth a bit.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, we've had an abbreviated conversation. I'm doing fine. I completed my required number of sessions months ago."

"Huh," Ecklie said. "Well, Grissom failed to note that conversation in your file. Um …"

Sara stared straight at him, mentally preparing for the next line of questioning. She would defend her story to the death. She _had_ completed the required number of sessions, she _was_ fine, and she _had_ had an abbreviated conversation with Grissom … sort of.

"But," Ecklie said at last, "I'll take care of it."

Sara gave him a forced smile as he walked away. "Thanks," she said.

As soon as he was gone, her smile dropped from her face. She had done the best she could, but she wasn't sure it was good enough.

* * *

After some sleuthing and a road trip with Detective Vartann, Sara and Greg were able to identify their victim. He had been creating machine guns and selling them to the general population. He had been the target of a buy bust that was cut short by his death.

She and Greg were still chuckling over the whole thing when they arrived back at the lab. They walked slowly through the halls, surprised that they weren't running into anyone.

"Is it just me, or is it way too quiet in here?" Greg asked.

"It's freaky," Sara said. "Let's see if anyone's in the locker room."

Greg nodded, and they made their way into the locker room. It was empty except for Catherine, who was sitting on a bench and staring into her locker.

"Catherine?" Sara asked. "Are you okay?"

Catherine looked up at Sara and Greg, her expression lost. "Hi," she said hoarsely.

"What's wrong?" Sara asked, a dark sense of foreboding overtaking her.

Catherine swallowed. "Ecklie … has split up the team."

Sara felt the room spin for a moment. She grabbed Greg's arm to steady herself. "What?"

Catherine's eyes shone with tears. "He's moving Nick, Warrick and me to swing. You two and Sofia are staying on grave with Grissom."

Sara crossed the room and sat down next to Catherine. In all the years they had worked together, Sara was sure that she had only seen tears in the older woman's eyes once before: when Eddie's body had been found. She grabbed Catherine's hand.

"Why?" she asked quietly. "What did Sofia …?"

Catherine shook her head. "From what Grissom said, Sofia stood behind him and the team, not Ecklie."

"Well, that explains her demotion," Greg said. "But, why screw with us?"

"You know Ecklie. He doesn't need a solid reason," Catherine said angrily.

"Wait," Greg said. "If Sofia's coming to grave, who's going to supervise days?"

"The swing supervisor."

"Then who's …?" Greg trailed off.

Catherine nodded. "Me."

"Well, congrats on the promotion," Greg said.

"Yeah," Catherine replied. She shook her head. "This is not how I wanted to be promoted."

"I can't believe this," Sara said, shaking her head. She swallowed. "Where are the guys?"

"Grissom took them out for breakfast."

"Why didn't you go?"

"They needed time together," she said. "I'll talk to Grissom later." She finally released Sara's hand and stood up. "I've got to get myself together. I have to run the shift today." She shook her head. "And every day."

"You can do it, Cath," Sara said.

She nodded. "I hope so."

Catherine left, and Sara and Greg stared at each other.

"Well, this is a bizarre surprise," Greg said at last. He sat down next to Sara. "It's going to be really weird without them."

She nodded. "That would be an understatement." She could feel tears pressing the back of her eyes. "How can he …?"

Greg reached out and took Sara's hand. "It's going to be okay," he said quietly. "We'll all still see each other. We'll all still be friends."

Sara shook her head. "You guys are far more than friends to me. You're my family."

"We still will be," Greg said, squeezing her hand. "I promise."

She turned to give him a small smile. "You're great, Greg."

He grinned back. "So are you."

* * *

When Sara walked into the diner, Grissom was sitting alone in a booth. He looked deep in thought; he didn't even notice her until she sat down across from him. His eyes widened at the sight of her.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied.

"How did you find me?"

"Catherine told me that you took Nick and Warrick out for breakfast. This is where we all always go, so …"

"Very astute of you," Grissom said. "You just missed them. They said they needed to get home to sleep."

Sara nodded. "They'll start earlier now."

Grissom exhaled slowly. "Cath told you, huh?"

Sara nodded.

Grissom shook his head. "I don't know how this happened, Sara."

"Hey," Sara said, leaning across to grab his hand, "this is not your fault, Grissom. Ecklie's the one who split up the team, not you."

"Ecklie split up the team because of my inability as a supervisor," he said.

"That's bullshit, and you know it," Sara said firmly. "We're a great team, Griss. Ecklie doesn't know what it takes to be a good supervisor. You do."

Grissom smiled. "If I were above reproach, this wouldn't have happened."

"If you were above reproach, you wouldn't be human."

"True," he said, smiling deeper. "And, as I told Nick and Warrick, Ecklie has a tendency to shape the questions to get the answers that he wants." He sighed. "He's wanted to knock me down for a long time. I suppose I should be glad that this is all he's done. It could have been worse."

Sara smiled and finally drew her hand back. "We all still have our jobs."

"And, I know that Nick and Warrick are in good hands," Grissom said. "Catherine will be a great supervisor. She's earned this promotion. I just wish she could have had the shift that she wanted."

Sara bit her lip. "How's Sofia taking her new position?"

Grissom sighed. "I haven't had a chance to talk to her." He shook his head. "I'm really impressed with her, Sara. She did what was right, even knowing that Ecklie wanted to hear the exact opposite. That's the type of person that I want on my team."

"I'm not sure that she wants to be on your team, though."

"No," he agreed, "I'm sure she doesn't."

"There's going to be a lot of changes," Sara sighed.

"Yes," Grissom agreed. He looked at her almost shyly. "I am glad of one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"That you'll still be on my team."

Sara smiled just as shyly, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "Me, too."


	8. Fallout

* * *

A/N: Wow, I'm really sorry about how long this took to post! The wedding did, as anticipated, consume my life up until this week, and then I had a tough time getting this chapter off the ground. But, I'm pretty happy with it … I hope you like it, too.

I won't give away any specifics for those who haven't seen 804 yet, but, for everyone who has … ohmygodohmygod!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this (rather short, for me) chapter!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Fallout_

"I should probably get home."

After spending over an hour with Grissom in the diner, Sara was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to sit with him longer, talking with him, helping him through the breakup of his team, but she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes open to drive home. After what had happened the last time she had tried that … even though she hadn't been drinking, she didn't like the idea of being pulled over again.

Grissom gave her a smile and nodded. "You must be tired. You and Greg have been working on your case forever."

She nodded with a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry to leave you alone at a time like this …"

He shook his head. "Sara, you have been amazing. It's meant so much to me to have you here with me for as long as you have been."

"Do you want me to …?" She wasn't sure how to end her statement. _Call you? Go home with you? _No matter what she said, it was going to sound far worse than she meant it. For once in her life, she wasn't thinking of him _like_ _that_. She truly just wanted to help him.

"No," he said, seeming to understand all that her unfinished question asked. "I'll be fine. I need to call Catherine and see how she's doing."

Sara nodded. "She said she'd talk to you later. I guess this is later."

"Yeah." He picked up the bill from their coffee. "Shall we?"

Sara nodded, and they both stood up. Sara waited while he paid the bill – again, refusing to let her pay – then, they walked out together.

"Sara," Grissom said slowly as they walked to her car, "thank you."

She smiled. "You don't have to thank me, Griss. I'm your friend. I want to be here for you." She paused. "After all that's happened, I really think this is a time when we need to be there for each other."

"Of course," he murmured. They reached her car and stopped, turning to face each other. "Still … thank you."

"You're welcome."

He paused and licked his lips. "I'm … glad to have you as a friend."

Sara nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. "Me, too."

He reached out to her, gently cupping her cheek in his hand. "Sara …" he whispered.

She tried to respond, but couldn't find her voice. She wanted more than anything for him to kiss her. He was leaning in … he licked his lips again … excitement shot through her … this was it … he was going to do it …

He stepped back, dropping his hand from her cheek. He cleared his throat.

"I'll see you at work," he whispered hoarsely.

"Right," she said, praying that he couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. "See you tonight."

He nodded. "Right. See you then."

"Bye," she said miserably.

Sara climbed into her car and started the engine. Grissom watched as she drove away, raising a hand to wave to her. He sighed, letting the misery seep through his body.

He had never wanted to kiss anyone so badly as he had wanted to kiss Sara. But, he couldn't do it. It wasn't right. She was so much younger, she was his subordinate … dating anyone on his team was against department policy …

He sighed again, knowing that none of those was the real reason that he had stopped himself from kissing her. In the end, he hadn't done it because it wasn't how he wanted their first kiss to be. He didn't want to kiss her when they were both upset. He didn't want to kiss her as a way to escape the pain.

He wanted to kiss her just for the sake of kissing her. And, for the first time, he thought that that day might come not _someday_, not _hopefully_, but in the foreseeable future.

Feeling somewhat more cheerful, he pulled out his cell phone and pressed the appropriate buttons to speed dial Catherine. It only rang once before she answered.

"Willows."

"Hey," he said.

"Hi, Gil." She sounded utterly miserable. "Wanna go out?"

"Name the place."

Twenty minutes later, he found himself sitting across from Catherine in the usual CSI haunt, each of them nursing a beer. She gave him an appraising look.

"How are you holding up?"

He shrugged. "You?"

She sighed. "I've wanted this for years," she said, "but never like this."

He nodded. "Things do have an odd way of working out, don't they?"

"Gil, I never wanted this to happen," she said. "I mean … I've wanted to be a supervisor for a long time. You knew that. I don't want to be second banana forever."

He nodded. "I've always wanted that for you, too, Cath. You deserve to be a supervisor."

"I just … I never wanted it to be like this. I never wanted to take half your team with me. I never wanted to be promoted as a way to punish you."

"I don't blame you for this," Grissom said firmly. "It's no more your fault than it's Nick's or Warrick's. Ecklie's wanted to do something like this to me for years. He finally found his chance, and he seized it." He shrugged. "It's the same attitude and mentality that have always won him promotions."

"Promotions over you."

Grissom shrugged again. "I don't want to be promoted. I'm still not entirely sure why I have the position that I do."

"Because you're the best in your field," Catherine said. "Because you're a good leader and a fantastic teacher. This is where you were meant to be, Gil. And, you're right; you probably wouldn't do well at being in charge of the entire lab. But, being the unit supervisor is where you belong. I'm just sorry that Ecklie can't see that."

"If I started to feel sorry for Ecklie for all of his shortcomings, I'd never have time for anything else," Grissom replied.

Catherine smiled and sipped her beer. "So, any advice for me?"

Grissom smiled, thinking of the long-ago day when he had asked Brass the same question. "Cover your ass and hide," he replied.

Catherine nearly choked on her beer. "Thanks, Grissom."

He shrugged. "Hey, it's what Brass told me. Maybe if I'd taken his advice, I'd still have Nick and Warrick." He shook his head. "You don't need my advice, Cath. You're going to be a great supervisor. But, if you do need someone to talk to, you know that my door is always open."

She smiled. "Thanks, Gil."

He returned her smile, thinking of his conversation with Sara. "We're friends, Cath. This is when we need to be there for each other the most."

She nodded. "I'm glad to have you as my friend."

"And, I'm glad that you're mine."

* * *

For the first time since her first day back after her Grissom-imposed three weeks off, Sara dragged her feet as she walked into the lab for the start of her shift. Aside from not wanting to begin her first shift ever without Nick and Warrick, she was reluctant to face Grissom after their almost-kiss.

She opened her locker and looked at herself in the mirror. She sighed and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

"You don't know what he was thinking," she muttered to herself. "Maybe it was only in your mind that he wanted to kiss you."

Realizing that she was likely making something out of nothing, she left the locker room and made her way into the break room. Greg was already there; he gave her a smile.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hi," he said. He glanced around the room. "It's quiet, isn't it?"

Sara nodded as she sat down next to him. "I miss them already," she said softly. She looked at Greg for a moment. "I'm so glad that he didn't take you, too, Greg."

He grinned. "I always knew that you loved me best."

Sara laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. "At least we still have each other."

The door opened, and Grissom and Sofia walked in together. Sara wondered briefly where they had been, but Grissom's voice brought an end to her musings.

"Well, this is our new team," he said. "Welcome to the new graveyard shift. I know that things are going to be tough at first, but I'm sure that everything will work out. We just need to get in there and do our jobs, and the rest will fall into place."

Sara wondered if he was right. She knew that he wanted to make this work; she suddenly felt a sense of commitment. She wanted to make this work, too – for their team, but, more importantly, for _him_.

"Sara, you and Greg have a home invasion in Henderson," he said. "Sofia, you have a possible sexual assault. The victim is at Desert Palms."

"Where are you going?" Sofia asked.

"Murder in a hotel room," Grissom replied. "All of you, let me know as soon as your cases are wrapped. I'm not asking you to rush, but if I need back up, you're all I've got."

They all nodded, and took their assignment slips from Grissom. Sara glanced at hers for a moment, then looked up at Greg.

"Go get your kit," she said. "I'll drive."

Greg sighed. "Don't I ever get to drive?"

"Not until you've passed your proficiency."

Greg rolled his eyes. "You are such a pain in my ass."

"Greg," Grissom said in a warning tone.

"Sorry, sorry."

Sara and Grissom looked up at each other and grinned. In that moment, all the tension between them melted away. In that moment, Sara knew that they were fine.

* * *

Due to two very inept criminals, Sara and Greg wrapped their case quickly. It was a rather happy ending; the family was fine and able to reclaim all that had been stolen from them, and the two men who had broken into their home would pay for their crimes. All in all, Sara and Greg were rather jovial about the outcome. They drove back to the lab with music blaring, both singing along.

"Grissom's not back yet," Sara commented as she parked their SUV in its assigned space, noting that his assigned space was still empty.

"I guess that means we're working a homicide," Greg said.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "There's no way Sofia's done with her sexual assault yet."

"No," Greg agreed. "Those can take forever."

Sara pulled out her cell phone as they climbed out of the car. "I'll call him."

Greg sighed. "So much for an easy shift."

"Would you really want one?" Sara asked, listening to the sound of the phone ringing.

"I suppose not," Greg said. He grinned. "I like to be challenged."

"Me, too," Sara smiled. "Oh, hi, Griss. … Yeah, Greg and I just got back to the lab. … Yeah, give us a minute to file our evidence and reports, and we'll be out. … Okay. … See you in a bit. … Bye."

Greg looked at her with raised eyebrows as she snapped her phone shut. "Well?"

Sara gave him a naughty smile. "How would you like to spend a night in a hotel with me and Grissom?"

"Can it just be you?" Greg asked, grinning back at her.

Sara laughed. "Not a chance."

They were both still laughing as they entered the lab. They turned a corner and nearly ran into Nick.

"Hey, guys!" he said cheerfully.

"Nicky!" Sara exclaimed. "How's swing treating you?"

"So far, so good," he replied. "Do you miss me on grave?"

Sara nodded. "I do," she said.

"Me, too," Greg replied. He grinned at Sara. "Sara and Grissom are great, but they don't play videogames. I have no one to talk strategy with!"

Nick laughed. "Don't let Sara fool you. She's beat me and Warrick at Madden more than once."

Greg's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Sara, you can play Madden?"

"I have many talents that you are blissfully unaware of," she grinned.

"Yeah, but … _videogames_?"

Nick laughed. "Like I said, Greggo, don't let her fool you." He glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry, guys, but I need to turn this report in and get out of here before I get in trouble for overtime. Catherine's already informed me that I'm close to maxing out."

"All right," Sara said a bit regretfully. She paused. "How is Catherine as a supervisor?"

Nick gave her a half-smile. "Not Grissom."

They exchanged a look. They had both known that Catherine would be nothing like Grissom as a supervisor. Sara found herself thinking once again that Nick and Warrick may have gotten the fuzzy end of the Popsicle stick in terms of supervisors.

"We'll adjust," Nick said.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "We don't want to keep you …"

"Yeah, I do need to get out of here," Nick replied.

"I guess we'll see you around."

"Can we all meet up after shift?" Nick asked, looking as sad as Sara to say good bye. "Have you two wrapped your case?"

"We have, but we're off to help Grissom with another," Sara replied.

"Homicide," Greg added. "We could be at this for hours."

"All right," Nick nodded. "Well, we'll plan something. We all have to have downtime together sometime soon."

"I hope so," Sara said. "I really miss you guys."

"We miss you, too," Nick sighed. He shook his head. "I hate Ecklie for this."

"We all do," Greg said.

Sara glanced around. "I think we should probably have this conversation elsewhere," she said quietly. "I don't like politics and games, but, in light of recent events …"

"Yeah," Nick said. "It's better to keep our mouths shut." He touched Sara's shoulder. "We'll get together soon."

Sara nodded. "I'll call you."

"I'll be waiting."

With one last smile, Nick disappeared down the hall. Greg looked at Sara sadly.

"I miss them, too. It's just not the same."

"No," Sara sighed, "it's not."

* * *

"Hi," Sara said as she and Greg approached the police officers stationed in the hotel lobby. "We're with the crime lab."

They both held up their IDs, and the police officers nodded.

"Go on up," the first one said. "Room 1313."

"Well, this one was doomed from the beginning," Greg said as they stepped onto the elevator. "I thought hotels didn't usually have a thirteenth floor."

Sara shrugged. "Not everyone is superstitious."

"Are you?"

She shook her head. "You?"

"A little," Greg replied. "Not to the point that I won't step on cracks for fear of breaking my mother's back, but I do have a healthy fear of omens of bad luck."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Your poor mother."

"Hey, my grandmother was a psychic," Greg declared.

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Did she foresee this for your future? Solving murders in overpriced hotels?"

"She'd never tell me what I was going to be when I grew up," Greg replied. "Something about jinxing it, I think …" He grinned. "I always thought she just didn't want to destroy my mother's dream of me being a doctor."

Sara laughed as the elevator doors opened. "Again, I say, your poor mother."

"My mother loves me," Greg grinned as they followed the hall down to room 1313.

"Of course she does."

They made it to the fateful room and ducked under the crime scene tape. They paused to look around for a moment, taking in the signs of a very violent struggle. Sara was about to move forward when the sound of a woman's voice made her stop short.

"How did she get here before us?" Greg asked. "That's Sofia's voice, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sara said shortly. How in the world had Sofia managed to close her case so quickly? She must have raced through it … or, it hadn't been an actual sexual assault.

Greg shrugged. "Whatever. Maybe we'll get home before tomorrow's shift starts."

He moved further into the room, but Sara stayed rooted to her spot. Realizing that she wasn't with him, he turned to look at her.

"Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Sara said again. "Sorry. I got lost in my thoughts for a minute."

"No problem."

Sara stepped forward, and she and Greg made their way into the bathroom, where Grissom and Sofia were processing the tub. Sara's eyes narrowed as she watched Sofia drape herself across Grissom's back to look at something he was pointing out in the drain. She was too close to him – far closer than was necessary. In that moment, Sara realized that Nick and Warrick were right. Sofia wanted Grissom. Not only did she want him, but she was willing to go after him.

Okay, then. The lines were drawn. Sofia wanted Grissom, and she was going to use every dirty trick she knew to win him. But, Sara Sidle did not give up without a fight. She was wiling to protect what was hers.

Even if he wasn't really hers yet.


	9. Chains

A/N: We're going a little off the beaten relationship path with this one, but it sets up the next few chapters nicely. I hope you like it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue were provided by episode 510, "No Humans Involved." I don't own Sponge Bob Square Pants either.

* * *

_Chains_

"I hate her."

"Oh, Sara, hate is such a strong word."

"No, Mar, I'm serious," Sara said, lying back on her couch. "I really, really hate her."

"Because she's after Grissom?"

"Yes."

Mary sighed. "You know, you could just beat her at her own game."

"What? Win him first?"

"Yeah."

Sara laughed. "Has pregnancy given you amnesia? You know that Griss turned me down when I asked him out."

"Yeah, but I also know that he's been … different … with you recently."

"That's true," Sara admitted. Grissom had not been nearly as inclined toward friendship two years ago as he was now.

"I think you should go for it, Sar," Mary said earnestly. "Fight for your man! Leave Sofia out in the cold!"

Sara laughed. "She's an evil bitch, Mary. You should see the way she hangs on him. It's disgusting! She has no regard for his personal space, she's always finding some excuse to ask him the dumbest questions, she does her best to work with him every chance she gets …" She trailed off and sighed. "Catherine hates her, too."

"Oh, well, if Catherine hates her …"

"No, she does! You should hear the way she talks about her. Honestly, the only good thing Sofia's ever done was to defend Grissom to Ecklie." She paused. "You know, at the time, I thought she was being really ethical. She was just sticking to the facts."

"I thought that Grissom didn't do anything wrong …?"

"He didn't," Sara quickly clarified. "I guess I'm just wondering if she stuck to the facts because it was the right thing to do or because she has a thing for Grissom. You know, if it had been Catherine who was the supervisor under fire, would Sofia have just reported what Ecklie wanted to hear?"

"Do you think that's what would have happened?"

Sara shrugged, then spoke up, realizing that Mary couldn't see her through the phone. "I don't know. She is good at her job," she admitted. "I'd like to think that she'd tell the truth regardless of whom it helped." She sighed. "She's so pretty, Mary," she said in a little voice. "Way prettier than me."

"Oh, Sara, stop it. You're gorgeous."

"But, you should see her! She's got this long, long, blond hair and big, blue eyes –"

"And Grissom told you that you're beautiful," Mary interrupted. "I think he likes brunettes with big, brown eyes and awesome smiles."

"I have a stupid gap between my teeth."

"Which makes you adorable," Mary said patiently. "I stand by what I said before: you need to fight for him. The Sara Sidle that I know would not give up easily – especially not on the man she's been in love with for years."

"I don't know about _in love_ …"

"Infatuated with, then," Mary said dismissively. "Sara, you stand firm and you fight. You do what it takes to win your man."

"Yeah," Sara said with renewed determination. "Yeah. Grissom and I have friendship and a history, which is more than I can say for her. Besides, I've got Catherine on my side … even if she doesn't know it." She grinned. "Sofia doesn't stand a chance."

* * *

"Hey, Sara, do you need me?"

Sara looked up from the computer screen to see Greg standing in the doorway, looking very excited. "Why?"

"Grissom just got a call for a homicide in the ghetto. He's taking Sofia, but he told me to ask you if I could go, too."

Sofia and Grissom alone? Not a chance. "Yeah, go," Sara said immediately. "I just need to finish the report on our last case, then wait around for something else to come up. I can definitely handle this on my own."

Greg grinned. "Thanks, Sara."

"Hey, don't thank me, thank the guy who died. If it weren't for him, I'd make _you_ finish this report."

"I'll be sure to let him know when I see him," Greg laughed. "See you later."

"Have fun."

Greg took off, and Sara turned back to the computer. She had only managed to type about three words when she was interrupted again, this time by Grissom.

"Thanks for letting Greg come along."

Sara smiled with a slight frown. "You're the boss. You can take him anytime you want."

Grissom shook his head. "You're in charge of him for now, Sara."

She smiled. "For tonight, he's all yours."

Grissom stepped fully into the room and lowered his voice. "I really wanted him to have this experience," he said quietly. "He hasn't been out in a rough neighborhood yet, and I think it will …"

"Be good for him?" Sara suggested.

Grissom shook his head. "Be educational," he said. "He needs to see all sides of this job."

"Right," Sara agreed. "Well, good luck. Call me if you need me."

"I will."

With one last smile, Grissom left her alone. Sara again returned to her report.

"Where's Grissom going with Sofia?"

Sighing, Sara looked up from the monitor yet again. "Homicide in a rough neighborhood," she said.

Catherine shook her head. "I don't like the idea of them working together alone."

Sara grinned. "They're not. Greg's going."

"Good." Catherine looked at her for a moment. "Sofia is interested in Grissom."

"Yeah, I could tell," Sara said, trying and failing to keep the bitterness in her voice to a minimum.

"I don't like it," Catherine said. "She's …" She smiled apologetically. "I've worked with Gil for my entire career. He's one of my best friends. Call me overprotective, but she's not good enough for him."

"Is anyone?" Sara asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

Catherine surveyed her for a moment. "You would be."

She walked away before Sara had time to respond. Sara was left staring after her, her mouth hanging open and all coherent thought lost.

* * *

Sara had finally managed to finish her report and leave it in Grissom's box when her cell rang. She picked it up to see Grissom's name on the display. She smiled slightly as she flipped it open.

"Sidle."

"Hi, Sara," Grissom said. "Are you busy?"

"Nope. I just turned in my report on my last case."

"Good. I need you over here. Our homicide went from a single to a triple."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Greg found the body of a little boy, and the brother of our first victim was shot right in front of us."

"My God," Sara said, her eyes wide. "Is everyone all right?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Greg's a little shaken, but I think he'll be okay."

"Okay," Sara said, already mentally ready to help Greg deal with everything. "I'm on my way."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Sara snapped her phone shut and hurried to retrieve her kit. It sounded like she was in for a long shift.

* * *

Sara arrived at the scene right after David. He and Greg were huddled together around a large plastic box, David examining the body while Greg snapped pictures. Fearing the worst, she stepped closer.

Sara's heart dropped when she saw the body of the little boy curled up in the box. Someone had killed this adorable child and literally thrown him out with the trash.

The news that he had only been dead for a day shocked her. His body looked as though it were in a state of advanced decomposition. There was only one reason that she could think of for his appearance: starvation.

On Sara's orders, David carried the body, still in its plastic coffin, to the coroner's van. Sara looked at Greg.

"Ready to go back?"

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Did you ride over with Grissom?"

He nodded.

"Good. You can ride back with me."

Sara and Greg had only driven a mile when she glanced at him. He was staring out the window in silence.

"I know I asked before, but are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

He turned slowly to look at her. "I found the body of a little kid and I was in the middle of a gun battle," he replied. "Do you think I'm okay?"

"I think you need to talk about it before it makes you nuts," she said gently.

Greg exhaled. "I know that you always said that it's tougher with kids, but this is the first real kid that I've seen." He shook his head. "How could anyone kill a child?"

"I don't know," Sara said softly. "Our job is to find justice for that child, Greg, not to try to fix the 'why' of it. We can't guarantee that another child will never die, but we can make sure that the person who killed this one will never have the chance to do it again."

He nodded.

"And, Greg …"

He looked at her again.

"In neighborhoods like that one, not everyone likes us. Very few people trust us. That can be the same everywhere, but … it's just really concentrated there. I think that Grissom wanted you to see that tonight."

"So, he took me away from helping you with paperwork so that I could nearly be killed?"

"No," Sara said. "I'm sure he didn't think that you would be caught in the crossfire. It's more the attitude that he wanted you to see."

Greg nodded.

"Are you okay?" she asked again. "Will you be okay if we have to go back to the scene?"

Greg exhaled again. "I guess." He gave her a small smile. "It's the job, right?"

Sara nodded. "It's the job."

* * *

The little boy had been abused. It wasn't exactly a surprise, given how they found him, but it ripped Sara's heart to shreds. Doc Robbins pointed out the fractures that suggested abuse, and the manner of his death – a slow starvation – and finally concluded by saying that his case of abuse had been particularly cruel.

Sara left the morgue filled with determination to find out who this little boy was. She would not let his abuser go free. As she had told Greg, it was their responsibility to make sure that the person who had killed this child could not do the same thing to another.

"Where are you going?"

Sara stopped short in the hallway. "I'm going to try to find out who our little boy is," she replied.

Sofia nodded. "Do you need help?"

"I've got it."

"Right. I'll check the missing persons' data base."

Sara gave her a rather cold smile. "You do that."

Sofia went in one direction while Sara walked in another. She had a feeling that she'd have more luck than Sofia. One phone call to Child Protective Services and she would have everything she needed to give her victim a name.

* * *

The sheer number of files was rather daunting. Sara stacked them up on the table in the break room and stared at them. Hundreds of files, each containing information about an abused child. Sighing, she sat down to get to work.

Sofia walked in when she was about halfway through the files. She went to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup of the coffee that Sara was sure had been made nearly a day before.

"I ran John Doe Minor's DNA against the missing persons' data base," Sofia said. "I'm sorry. No hits."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised," Sara said, barely looking up from the file in front of her. "They didn't care enough to _feed_ him; why would they report him missing?"

"What's going on in here?" Sofia asked, staring at the mountains of files stacked up around Sara.

"The victim had a prior abuse fracture," Sara said.

"And, you're hoping Child Protective Services investigated?" Sofia asked.

"Well, based on the age of the victim, the age of the fracture and the break pattern, I've found ten possible matches."

"Well, it's going to take you forever to go through these alone," Sofia said, lifting the cover of the nearest file.

"I'll get it done," Sara said in a tone that clearly told her to back off.

"It took me a long time to get to where I was, Sara," Sofia said, releasing the file.

Sara looked up.

"Now … I feel like I'm starting from scratch. I miss sleeping at night. I miss my colleagues. I miss …"

"What?" Sara couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Being trusted."

Sofia walked out of the break room, leaving Sara alone. Sara made a face.

"Yeah, well, do something to earn my trust," she muttered. "I don't give it out for free."

Sighing, she gathered up the possible matches she had found and headed back to the morgue. It was time to do a little sinus comparison.

* * *

With more than a little help from Doc Robbins, Sara managed to identify the little boy as Devon Malton. A review of his records brought the news that he was a member of the foster care system. Sara found his most recent home and went to Brass.

She found him in his office, going over some paperwork. He looked up with a smile as she walked through the door.

"Hi, Sara."

"I need to go question a foster parent," she said without preamble.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Care to elaborate?"

"The little boy from the dumpster is Devon Malton," she said. "He lived in foster care. I have his last address right here."

Jim shook his head. "You think the foster parents starved him to death?"

Sara shrugged, fire jumping into her eyes. "Who else? The foster system is far from perfect. Far too many bad parents slip through the screening process." Her face twisted. "CPS takes kids away from their parents to protect them. What they don't tell you is that the kids can end up far worse off than they started."

She spoke with such passion that Brass looked at her closely. "Are you okay, Sara?"

"Fine," she said. "I just want to make sure that this woman can't starve any other kids."

* * *

As anticipated, Devon's foster mom was less than cooperative. She was very adamant about the fact that Devon had not lived with her in six months. She admitted that he had been hurt at her house, but she had been cleared of any wrongdoing in that incident. Once they arrived at the police station, Sara left her with Brass. She was far more interested in talking to the foster children in the waiting room.

She paused in the doorway for a moment, watching them. There were five, three girls and two boys. They all had homework on their laps, but the two younger girls were more interested in giggling together. As Sara watched, the oldest girl reprimanded them; they got back to work at once.

Sara drew a deep breath as she entered the room. It was like looking at her former self. She remembered being the teenager in foster care who only wanted to do well in school, who had tried to convince her foster brothers and sisters to do the same. She immediately felt a connection with the oldest girl – Glynnis, according to the records Brass had procured – and addressed her when she entered the room.

Glynnis was quick to defend her foster mom, labeling her one of "the good ones." With ten years' experience in the foster system, Sara was willing to believe her. Glynnis was horrified by the news that Devon had died, stating that his mom had come to get him and his brothers. She kept talking about how much their mom loved them, but Sara barely heard a word of it.

"Glynnis, did Devon have brothers in the foster home?" she asked, expertly masking her rising panic.

"Yeah," Glynnis replied. "Two older brothers. Kevin and Raymond. What happened to them?"

"I'm going to find out," Sara said, jumping to her feet. She looked back down at the girl. "Thank you for all your help."

"Just … help Kevin and Raymond," Glynnis said.

"I will," Sara promised.

She ran out of the waiting room and across the hall. She knocked on the door of the interrogation room and launched herself through it. Brass looked up at her in surprise.

"Sara?"

She bent down to speak to him. "We need to find Devon's brothers."

Brass looked at Mrs. Tenney and her attorney with a smile. "Excuse us."

"I'm sorry," Sara said.

Brass took Sara's arm, leading her into the hall. "What do you mean, brothers?"

"I was just talking to Glynnis, one of Mrs. Tenney's foster kids. She said that Devon's mom came months ago to pick up Devon and his older brothers."

"Where are the older boys now?" Jim asked.

"I don't know," Sara said. "But, based on how we found Devon, I don't think we have much time to find them."

* * *

Greg found a fingerprint on the box Devon had been dumped in, which led them to "Divine," the cousin to whom Devon's mother had entrusted him and his brothers. It took both Brass and Sara, but they managed to get the kids' location out of her. Brass led the way to the house with sirens blaring; Sara and Greg followed in their SUV.

"I can't believe this," Sara muttered. "Who in her right mind would leave her kids with her stripper cousin?"

"Someone who felt like she didn't have anywhere else to turn," Greg supplied. "She left them here while she was building a better life for them in Seattle, Sara. I'm sure she thought that they'd be better off with family than they would in foster care – especially after what happened to Devon's arm."

Sara shook her head. "She should have taken them with her."

"And done what with them?" Greg asked. "No home, no job … she needed time."

"Yeah, well, your kids are something you don't play around with," Sara said angrily.

They arrived at the address Divine had provided. Sara and Greg waited while Brass cleared the house. He came back out alone, stating that the boys weren't inside. Sara felt her panic mounting again as they walked around to the backyard.

A storage shed appeared to be their best bet to find the boys. Brass and Sara drew their weapons and flashlights as they descended the stairs. After seeing the first prone form, Brass shot back up the stairs to call an ambulance. Sara continued down quickly, falling to her knees next to the little boy who was collapsed on the shed floor. She reached out for his wrist, grasping it in her hand.

"He's alive!" she yelled. "We need water and blankets!"

"I'll get them!" Greg yelled back before pounding up the stairs.

Sara was staring at the little boy, willing him to open his eyes, when she felt a small hand on her shoulder. She turned to see the second boy staring at her, his little face streaked with tears.

"Hey," she said softly. "Are you Kevin or Raymond?"

The child didn't respond; he crawled to her and buried his face in her shoulder. Feeling tears press against the backs of her eyes, Sara put her arm around him, holding him close.

"It's all right," she said quietly and a bit desperately. "It's all right; you're safe now. It's okay."

Greg returned with the blankets and water. He tended to the unconscious child while Sara wrapped a blanket around the one who wouldn't let go of her. She offered him a bottle of water; he took it and crawled into her lap to drink it.

"My name is Sara," she said softly, holding him tightly. "What's yours?"

"Kevin," he whispered.

"Kevin," she repeated. "And that's your brother? Raymond?"

He bobbed his head up and down against her.

"We're going to get you out of here, Kevin. We're going to find your mom, and make sure that you and Raymond are safe with her from now on."

"I don't have to stay in the shed?" he asked.

"No," she said forcefully. "You'll never have to be here again."

The EMTs that Brass had called finally arrived. They loaded Raymond onto a stretcher, putting in an IV in an effort to get some fluids into him. Once he was cared for, they turned their attention to Kevin.

"Who's this?" one of the EMTs asked, giving Kevin a smile.

"This is Kevin," Sara replied.

"Well, Kevin, I'm Tracey," she said. "We're going to take you and your brother to the hospital to make sure that you're not sick. Will you come with me?"

Kevin shook his head, grabbing Sara's hand in a death grip. Painful memories stabbed at Sara's heart. She pushed them down with effort.

"Could I ride with him?" she asked.

"Of course," Tracey replied.

"Is that okay, Kevin?" she asked. "Could I ride to the hospital with you?"

He nodded. Sara stood to her feet, pulling him with her. They walked out of the shed together, Kevin never once letting go of Sara's hand.

"Hey," Greg said, looking at her with concern.

"I'm going to go to the hospital with the boys," she said. "Can you meet me there with the car?"

"Yeah, sure," he said.

She gave him a smile. "You know, this means you get to drive."

Greg smiled with her. "I'm sure my privileges will be revoked pretty quickly."

"Yeah, probably."

"Okay, Kevin, right up in here."

Sara stopped her conversation with Greg to help Kevin follow Tracey into the ambulance. Tracey settled the little boy on a stretcher; Sara sat down next to him and gave him an encouraging smile.

Tracey checked him over, then smiled at Sara. "You and your colleagues did a great job," she said. Her smile faded. "If you had found them a few days later …"

Sara shook her head and swallowed. "I'm just sorry we didn't find them a few days earlier."

* * *

A social worker was waiting for them when they arrived at the hospital. Sara briefed her on the boys while the doctors tended to Kevin and Raymond. Megan, the social worker, sighed.

"You know, I've been doing this for ten years, but some cases still manage to shock me," she said. "This is one of those times."

"Yeah," Sara said. She looked through the glass doors at Kevin, who was sitting up on an examination table. "Would it be okay if I said good bye to him before you take over?"

"That would be fine."

Sara smiled and made her way into the exam room. Although he didn't smile, Kevin's face brightened at the sight of her.

"Hi, Kevin," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," he said. "The doctor gave me a Sponge Bob band aid for the cut on my hand."

"Very cool," Sara said, looking at the bandage. "You're pretty lucky."

Kevin nodded. "How did you find me in that shed?"

"It wasn't easy," Sara acknowledged. "The important thing is that we did find you. You're going to be okay now, Kevin. We'll make sure that no one can ever hurt you again."

"Are you a police officer?"

"Sort of."

His face twisted. "I thought the police were bad."

"No, we're not. We're here to help people, like we're helping you and Raymond."

"Oh," he said simply. "I guess I was wrong."

"Everyone makes mistakes." She glanced back at the door, where Megan was waiting to come in. "Listen, Kevin, I wish I could stay with you longer, but I have to go help Captain Brass find your mom. This is Megan. She's really nice, and she wants to help you, too. She's going to stay with you until your mom gets here. Will that be okay?"

Kevin surveyed Megan for a moment, then nodded. "Will you be back?"

"I'm not sure," Sara said. Remembering what Glynnis had said about appreciating being told the truth, she amended her statement. "Probably not. My job is to make sure that bad people can't hurt anyone, and that keeps me pretty busy."

Kevin nodded solemnly. "There's lots of bad people."

"Yeah, there are," Sara agreed sadly. "We'll make sure that none of them hurt you anymore, though, okay?"

"Thanks," he said.

Sara smiled. "You're welcome." She started to stand up, but was stopped by Kevin's voice.

"Wait!"

"What?" she asked, stopping short.

Kevin reached up and wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you for making me safe."

Sara blinked rapidly, trying to fight back the tears. "Oh, sweetheart," she sighed. "You're welcome. You're so welcome."


	10. Support Systems

A/N: A thousand apologies! I'm at the end of a grading period, which always tends to be very busy for me. Of course, if I kept up with all my paperwork _during_ the grading period, it probably would be less stressful, but, I tend to be rather Grissom-ish about paperwork. Add to that the fact that, professionally, I've been through an emotional wringer this week, and you end up with a massive delay in updating. So, again, I apologize. Hopefully, I'll be able to have the next chapter posted quickly.

I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you so much for your patience in waiting for this update! As a reward for your patience, this chapter is the longest I've written in awhile. I hope that helps to make amends! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and limited dialogue have been borrowed from episode 511, "Who Shot Sherlock?" and episode 512, "Snakes."

* * *

_Support Systems_

Greg glanced at Sara as he drove them back to the lab. She had been silent since leaving the hospital, which was very out of character for his normally laughing, teasing mentor. The very fact that she was letting him drive spoke volumes to her inner turmoil.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said.

"You don't look fine."

In that moment, Sara knew that she had to convince Greg that she truly was fine, or she's have to spend the rest of the ride back to the lab being grilled on her mental and emotional state. She finally turned to face him. "You really need to work on the way you talk to girls."

Greg grinned. "My game is just fine."

"So says you. You're the one who just told a girl she doesn't look good."

"That's not what I …" Greg trailed off as he glanced at her, seeing the teasing smile on her face. He looked at her for a moment. Even though she was quieter than he had ever seen her, she seemed okay. She was willing to tease him, which was always a good sign. He decided to follow her mood.

"I'll have you know that I won my first girlfriend over with a compliment," he said. "We were in seventh grade, and I told her how much I liked her braces. I still –"

"Are you okay?" Sara asked suddenly, interrupting Greg mid-sentence.

"Huh?" Greg asked, clearly confused.

"Are you okay with everything that's happened?" she clarified. "I know you were pretty shaken up before …"

"Oh," Greg said. He paused for a moment. "I don't think I'll ever learn to like stuff like that – you know, finding little kids' dead bodies, being shot at. It's not fun. But, like you said, we have to be there to put an end to it."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. She gave him a small smile. "You're not still mad at Grissom for making you go?"

Greg gave her a half-smile. "You and Grissom were right. I needed to see something like that. And, I'm glad that you made me go back today. Even though it was horrific to see those little boys in that shed, it was good to see the neighborhood during the day."

"Not so scary with the lights on?" Sara asked.

"I guess you could say that," Greg replied. He glanced at her. "You're really sure that you're okay? I've never seen you like you were with that little kid."

Sara gave him a false smile, one that Mary would have seen through in a heartbeat. "I'm fine."

Her smile and her words managed to fool Greg, as she had hoped they would.

"Good."

Feeling confident that Sara would be okay, he moved on to other topics, pausing to blast their usual punk rock from the radio. Sara was grateful. She was far from "fine," but she didn't really want to talk about it. Not with Greg. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

* * *

Sara had never been so happy to get home as she was that day. She had never felt such a need to wash off her job. Dropping her keys and purse onto the table by the door, she headed straight for the bathroom.

She took a long shower, making the water as hot as she could stand. When the water finally ran cold, she climbed out, shivering as the cool air hit her warm skin. She dried off and pulled on her pajamas, then made her way to the bedroom. She sank down on the bed, pulling a pillow to her chest.

While she was in the shower, she was able to push back all the images, all the memories. She merely concentrated on lathering shampoo through her hair and rinsing soap off her body. The smallest details received the most attention. Now, with nothing to occupy her mind, she couldn't stop the memories.

Devon's starved body.

Kevin's tear-streaked face.

Raymond's unconscious frame.

Kevin sitting in her lap.

Kevin clinging to her hand.

Sara clinging to a social worker's hand.

Her mother being led away by the police.

Her father's body lying on the floor.

Her father's blood splattered across the walls.

Her entire family, gone in one night.

The tears welled up inside her until she couldn't contain them. She let the first few fall in silence, soon to be followed by a few dry sobs. After a moment, she was sobbing hysterically, crying as she had not let herself cry in years. She clutched the pillow to her as the tears streamed from her eyes and the sobs tore from her throat.

She finally fell asleep clutching her pillow, with red, swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

* * *

Sara didn't awake until she alarm went off, screaming at her that she needed to get up or risk being late for work. She struggled to open her eyes, which felt as though they had been glued shut. She was confused for a moment, wondering why her entire aching head seemed to feel gummy.

Then, as if in a flash, all that had happened the day before came back to her. She drew a shaky breath and pulled herself out of bed. The entire experience had been horrific, but she couldn't dwell on it forever. She needed to get to work. Once there, she would need to put on a brave front for her coworkers. She didn't want them to look into her pain-filled eyes and ask sympathetic questions. She didn't want to have to make excuses.

Because, when it came down to it, she would do nothing but make excuses. She was not ready to share that part of her life. Not with anyone.

* * *

She should have known that she'd never be able to fool him. His colleagues may have been convinced that he was oblivious to the human element, but Gil Grissom was far more observant than any of them realized. He had not become a top forensic investigator by ignoring the emotional factor. And, he generally had a good feel for the emotions of those around him.

Especially where _she_ was concerned.

As soon as Sara walked into his office to receive her assignment at the start of their shift, he knew that something was wrong with her. In a heartbeat, he changed the assignments. He had intended to give Sara and Greg a homicide, leaving Sofia solo on a single car accident. Once he saw the pain in Sara's eyes, he handed her the accident.

Sara glanced at her assignment, then at her supervisor. "Well, this looks thrilling," she said sarcastically.

"You and Greg deserve an easy night," he explained. "You really gave it your all yesterday. I think you've earned this."

She nodded slowly. "Greg was a little shaken …"

He nodded. "I may have pushed him too far."

She shook her head. "He knows that he needed to see it. He'll be fine." She gave him a small smile. "I think he'll be glad for the break, though."

Grissom nodded again. If she wanted to use Greg as an excuse, so be it. "We'll talk after shift, okay?"

Sara frowned slightly. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," he said quickly. "I just thought that you might like to go have a cup of coffee. It's been awhile since we did that."

Sara's face finally broke into a beaming smile. "That would be great."

"Good. I'll see you here after shift?"

"I'll be here."

* * *

At the end of the shift, Sara made her way to Grissom's office. She knew that it was unlikely that she'd find him there; just because she had spent most of the night in the lab catching up on her paperwork – she and Greg had closed their case fairly quickly – didn't mean that Grissom had done the same. She was shocked, therefore, to find him sitting at his desk, files spread open before him.

"Hi," she said, knocking lightly on the open door.

"Hi," he smiled, looking up from his work. "Come in."

Sara smiled as she entered the office. "Paperwork?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "If I don't get this done soon, I'll have to answer to Ecklie … and, we both know how well _that_ went last time."

Sara raised an eyebrow.

"Too soon?" he asked, making a face.

"A little," she smiled.

Grissom sighed and shut the file he had been reading. "Shall we go have coffee?"

"If you need to stay and work, that's fine," Sara said quickly. "We can go another night."

Grissom shook his head. "It's just paperwork. It'll still be here tomorrow."

"If you're sure …"

"I'm sure," he said confidently, leading her to the door. "Say good night to the lab."

Sara giggled. "Good night, lab."

"Good girl. Come on, let's go."

Sara had to admit that she felt a bit giddy as they walked to the coffee shop together. He had left work earlier than he had intended for her. Considering the fact that he was a complete work-aholic, that had to count for _something_.

They sat down at their usual booth, were greeted by their usual waitress, and ordered their usual coffee and muffins. Grissom looked at Sara for a long moment.

"What?" she asked.

"How was your shift?"

"A bit boring," she said. "I let Greg pretty much handle the accident on his own. He did a great job."

Grissom smiled. "Well, I'm not surprised. He has a great teacher."

Sara flushed slightly. "I've had a lot of help. Besides, I learned from the master."

It was Grissom's turn to blush. He was saved from responding by the arrival of their coffee and muffins. They were silent for a moment, both adding the appropriate amounts of cream and sugar to their drinks. Finally, Grissom broke the silence.

"Are you okay, Sara?" he asked quietly.

Sara's head jerked up from her muffin, which she was tearing into bite-sized pieces. She could feel her heart rate pick up. Had Greg talked to him? "What?" she asked.

He paused, collecting and phrasing his thoughts. "I know that you had a really tough case yesterday. I just want to make sure that you're all right."

"I'm fine," she said a bit too quickly, a bit too forcefully.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." She paused and licked her lips, knowing that he wouldn't be happy unless she gave him something more. She chose to go with the obvious, and to appeal to his emotions. "It's harder with kids. You know that. It was a tough case, like you said." She hoped that the finality in her tone would be enough to tell him to move on to a new topic.

Unfortunately, it wasn't. Grissom looked deeply into her eyes. He could see the raw pain there, and wanted to make it go away. He spoke quietly, "I can't imagine what it must have been like to find those little boys like that…"

"Griss, please …" Her heart was pounding in her ears. She couldn't talk about this.

"Please, what?"

"Please, drop it."

"Sara, I just –"

"Look, I know that you're just trying to be a good friend," she interrupted. "I appreciate it, I really do. But, there are just some things that are better left alone. This is one of those things."

"If you need –"

"I don't need anything," she said, interrupting him again. "I'm fine, and I'll be able to keep on doing my job as I always have. You have no reason to worry about me."

He smiled. "We've been over this. I'm not worried about you; I'm concerned about you."

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "It's always about semantics with you, isn't it?"

"But of course."

"Well, you have no reason to be concerned, then. I'm fine."

"You keep saying that, but I'm not entirely convinced."

"I'm sorry that I can't convince you, but there's really nothing more I can say." Even as the words left her mouth, she realized what an awful lie she was telling him. There were so many more things she could say, but none of them would convince him that she was fine. She knew that they would be better off if the entire topic were dropped.

Grissom sighed. "If you're sure …"

"I'm sure," she said forcefully. "Can we please talk about something else?"

Another sigh. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

"All right. Tell me about your case today."

As she began to talk, Sara felt her pounding heart slow back to its normal rhythm. Once again, she had dodged a bullet.

Even so, she could feel her past pressing down on her. She didn't know how much longer it would be before it was forced out into the open.

She only hoped that she would be ready for it when it was.

* * *

As always, Sara returned to her favorite refuge from the horror of her personal life: work. Since taking on the responsibility of mentoring Greg, she had made her sole focus preparing him for his final proficiency. After watching him in their most recent cases, she was sure that he was ready. All that remained was to tell Grissom.

She waited until Greg was busy – she gave him the rather time-consuming task of combing through the large amount of clothing collected from party-goers in their recent case – to talk to Grissom. Knowing that her mentee was occupied, she hoped that her supervisor would be free.

Sara walked down the hall toward Grissom's office, thinking that she might find him there. His door was open, a sure sign that he was inside. Picking up her pace, she approached the open door. She was only a few steps away when she heard Sofia's distinctive laugh. She stopped short.

Grissom wasn't in his office alone. He was in his office with Sofia.

Sara took a deep breath and began walking again, this time with a new determination in her step. It was time to show that skank who was Grissom's best girl.

She knocked lightly on the open door and fixed a cheerful smile on her face. Grissom, who was sitting behind his desk while Sofia sat across from him, looked up.

"Sara," he smiled, looking genuinely pleased to see her. "Come in."

Sara glanced at Sofia for a half-second, then swung her eyes back to Grissom's face. "I hope I'm not interrupting …?"

"No, we're through here," Grissom said, standing up.

Sofia did the same, giving Grissom a smile. "Thanks, Gil. I'll see you later."

Sara nearly choked. She had only ever heard two people in the lab call Grissom by his first name: Brass and Catherine. To hear it on Sofia's lips sounded odd, foreign, and almost laughable.

"Good luck on your case," Grissom replied.

"Thanks," she said. She brushed past Sara on her way out, giving her a considerably colder smile.

Sara gave Sofia a rather falsely sweet smile. _Take that. He kicked you out so he could talk to me. One point to Sara. _

"What can I do for you?" Grissom asked as Sofia left his office.

"I wanted to talk to you about Greg," Sara replied.

Concern briefly crossed Grissom's eyes. In his fear for Sara's emotional state, he had forgotten to check up on his team's newest member. "Is he all right? I thought you said … I know those gunshots really shook him up."

"He's fine," Sara said. "I think going back really helped him. He still knows what a dangerous neighborhood it is, but he got to see that it isn't always a battlefield."

"Good. And he handled everything all right with the kids?"

"Yeah," Sara replied. _Better than me_, she thought. Knowing how Grissom would respond, she chose not to articulate that thought. "You know, after working with him recently … I think that he's ready for his final proficiency."

"You're sure? This will be his last shot. If he fails, he's back to DNA for the rest of his career."

Sara nodded. "I'm sure. He can do it."

"All right," Grissom smiled. "I'll evaluate him on the next homicide that comes in."

Sara grinned. "He'll pass. I know it."

* * *

As luck would have it, a homicide was waiting for them when they arrived at the lab the next day. The graveyard shift congregated in the break room, waiting for Grissom. Sara and Sofia did their best to maintain a professional attitude toward each other while avoiding making eye contact. Greg tried to keep a conversation going, but it was useless. All three of them were relieved when Grissom entered the room.

"Hi," he said cheerfully, blissfully unaware of the undercurrent between the two women on his team. "We've got a busy night tonight. Sofia, the Bellagio thinks they've got a ring of cheaters running through the casino; you'll need to check that out. Sara, trick roll at the Tangiers. And, Greg, you're coming with me on a homicide."

Greg looked at Sara as though he were lost. "But, Sara and I …"

"You're coming with me to do your final proficiency," Grissom clarified.

The color slowly drained from Greg's face. "Tonight?" he squeaked.

"Tonight." Grissom glanced at his watch. "We leave in fifteen minutes, so make sure you're ready."

Grissom left the room, followed closely by Sofia. Under normal circumstances, Sara would have bolted out of her seat to follow them. However, knowing that Greg was practically shaking in fear, she stayed back to talk to him.

"Hey," she said, giving his shoulder a shake, "this is good news! You just need to pass this, and you'll be a real CSI. You'll be able to solo and everything."

Greg swallowed and turned to look at her. "Sara … do you think I _can_ pass this?"

"I do," she said firmly. "Greg, if you want the truth, Grissom told me when I first started working with you that you wouldn't take your final proficiency until I said you were ready. Yesterday, I went to him and told him that you were. And, Greg," she said, smiling at him, "you _are_. We've been working together for a long time now, and, in case you haven't noticed, you've practically run our last few cases without me. You can do this. I know you can."

Greg gave her a grin. "Yeah," he said, his voice stronger than it had been since hearing of his assignment. "I can do this."

Sara smiled and, shocking both of them, leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I'm proud of you, Greg."

His color came back in full force, turning his face a brilliant shade of red. "Thanks," he said, swallowing again.

Sara grinned and stood up. "Good luck – not that you'll need it."

She walked out of the room to retrieve her kit, leaving a very cheerful Greg Sanders behind her.

* * *

Sara was finished with her trick roll sooner than expected. She drove back to the lab to complete her final report; once that was done, she called her supervisor. The phone only rang twice before he answered.

"Grissom."

"Hey, Griss, it's Sara," she said.

"Hi, Sara. How's the trick roll?"

"Done," she replied. "Can I come over and help Greg?"

"Sure," Grissom said. "We're still at the vic's house." He rattled off the address.

"Excellent," Sara grinned. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

She left the lab with a grin. She couldn't wait to see Greg in action.

* * *

Grissom was outside when Sara arrived at the scene. He and Jim were just finishing interviewing three people who were wearing period costumes. Shaking her head at the strangeness that was Las Vegas, Sara joined them.

"What's with the trick or treaters?" she asked, watching as the three witnesses walked away.

"Our vic liked to pretend he was Sherlock Holmes," Grissom explained. "Those three are his fellow detectives."

"Right," Sara said slowly. "So, they're reenactors? Like the people who reenact the Civil War?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. They get together once a week to solve mysteries a la Holmes."

Sara shrugged and shook her head. "To each his own, I suppose. Where's Greggo?"

"Inside," Grissom replied. "I'm evaluating him on his ability to process Sherlock's secret room."

"Um …"

"Just go in and have a look," Brass said with a grin. "If you liked these three, you'll love the secret room."

"Okay, I'm getting a little freaked out," Sara laughed.

"Let's just say … the man took his hobby seriously," Grissom smiled.

"Okay," Sara said with another shake of her head. "You're just evaluating him on that room?"

"Yes."

"So, is it all right if I help with the rest of the house?"

"It's all yours."

Sara smiled. "Great. I'll be inside if you need me."

Grissom watched her walk away. Although he couldn't help but notice the sway of her hips as she moved, it was her smile that stayed in the forefront of his mind. He shook his head to bring the case back into focus. When he turned back to the task at hand, it was to see Brass grinning at him.

"What?" he asked somewhat self-consciously.

"Nothing," Brass said, trying too late to hide his grin.

"Jim …"

Brass grinned again. "Sara's a great girl, Gil."

A look of shock crossed Grissom's face. "What? Wait, Jim, there's nothing …"

"I'm sure there's not," Brass said. He started to walk away. "But, there should be."

Grissom stared after him, completely at a loss for words.

* * *

Sara couldn't help but feel sorry for Greg. Through no fault but that of bad luck, he had been given a case that was full of twists, turns, planted evidence and complete confusion. He went from thinking that it had been suicide to murder to, after a follow-up visit to the house, suicide again. In the end, he listed suicide as the cause of death.

Sara sat with him, listening and asking questions as he went over his final conclusions with her. Although she would not have picked this as a suicide, he presented a convincing argument.

"Write it up," she said at last. "Give your report to Grissom. Way to go."

Greg looked at her nervously. "You don't sound very confident."

"What matters is _your_ confidence," she replied. "This one is all about you, Greg. Grissom doesn't care what I think about this case, and neither should you."

He smiled. "Okay. You're sure that it'll be okay?"

"I want you in the field with us," Sara smiled. "I won't steer you wrong."

Greg gave her a grin and left to write up his report. Sara sat back in her chair and sighed. She really hoped that he would pass.

* * *

"Sara!"

Sara dropped her sandwich. "What?"

Grissom came into the break room and closed the door behind him. He grinned at her; Sara was sure she hadn't seen him look so excited in ages.

"Greg passed!"

Sara jumped up. "Seriously?"

"Of course."

"Even though his conclusions were wrong?"

Grissom waved his hand as though to wave aside her comment. "He collected the evidence and analyzed it perfectly. We work together to establish everything else. You know that. I helped him to see that it was a murder rather than a suicide. He'll probably do the same for me someday. So, yes, he passed."

Sara's grin could have split her face in two. "This is great! I'm so excited for him! Have you told him? Can I be there when you do?"

"Actually … I was thinking …"

"What?"

"Since this is Greg, I think we need a rather nontraditional way to tell him."

Sara's eyes lit up. "What do you have in mind?"

Grissom grinned. "Swing is still here. Shall we get Catherine, Nick and Warrick in on the action?"

"Definitely."

* * *

They had plenty of time to come up with a scheme to give Greg the good news; their young colleague was busy avoiding everyone. Having concluded that the man had committed suicide rather than realizing that he had been killed by a friend, Greg was convinced that he had failed. They felt that a little bit of fun would be the best way to raise his spirits.

"Can we use Mr. Wiggles somehow?" Nick asked.

Catherine shook her head. "I told you guys to hide him!"

"We did," Warrick said very seriously. "Right now, he's in the shower."

"You put Mr. Wiggles in the _shower_?" Catherine exclaimed.

"We didn't turn it on," Nick said innocently.

"Right," Warrick said, giving her a wide-eyed look. "We didn't want to waste water."

"We know how expensive that can be," Nick added.

Catherine gave them a look of disgust while Grissom and Sara looked at each other in confusion.

"Care to clue us in?" Grissom asked.

"These two geniuses used ballistic gel to create a life-sized model of a man to electrocute to prove a theory," she said. "They've named him Mr. Wiggles."

Grissom made a face. "I'm all for experimenting to prove a theory, but I'm not sure that ballistic gel was the best choice, guys."

"Exactly!" Catherine exclaimed. "I told them to hide it."

Grissom laughed. "Well, in that case, we need to use it for this. How?"

"Let's make him you, Griss," Sara said suddenly.

"What?"

"Yeah!" Nick exclaimed, picking up on Sara's thought process. "We'll put him at your desk, and tell Greg that he needs to go in to see you …"

"We'll dress him up like you and turn him so Greg can't see the face," Warrick added. "Then, when Sanders walks in, we'll turn him around …"

"And give Mr. Wiggles a sign that tells Greg that he passed," Catherine finished.

Grissom looked impressed. "I like it. Let's do it."

* * *

Once they had created their set up in Grissom's office, it was only a matter of finding Greg. They enlisted the help of Hodges, asking him to page Greg to the trace lab. Sara promised him a glass of champagne for his efforts; Hodges was quick to agree. Nick and Warrick stood in the hall in a spot Greg would have to pass to get to the trace lab. When they saw Greg, they would redirect him to Grissom's office. Grissom, Sara and Catherine hid themselves in Grissom's office; Grissom held the end of the clothesline that would pull the chair around to face Greg.

"Thank goodness you have all these shelves of creepy jars," Catherine said as they crouched down. "They make for good hiding places."

Grissom shook his head. "Hey," he said, his eyes lighting up, "how's the fetal pig?"

"Miss Piggy is just fine," Catherine said with a shake of her own head. "I put her on my bookcase. Lindsey is a little put out that she's not in your office anymore, but I think she'll get over it."

"I thought she liked the butterflies more."

"Oh, she does. But, she's always had a soft spot for the fetal pig. She said it was something like forcing her out of her home."

"Guys, quiet!" Sara hissed. "He's coming!"

Within seconds, Greg walked into the office and headed straight to the desk. Grissom pulled the line, and the chair turned to face him. Greg sputtered in shock as he read the news that he had passed his final proficiency.

Laughing and cheering, Nick and Warrick walked into the room while Grissom, Catherine and Sara came out of their hiding places. Greg still looked completely shocked as Sara hugged him tightly.

"I knew you could do it," she whispered. "Congratulations."

Greg grinned, hugging her back. He knew that he would never have been able to do it without her.

* * *

"I hate Sofia."

Mary sighed. "Every time you talk to me … wait, shouldn't you be at work?"

"I'm in my car," Sara said. "I only have a minute."

"So, why do you hate her now?"

"Greg passed his final proficiency, so we all had a little party for him. She didn't come!"

"Well, Sara, to be fair, it's not like she really knows Greg like the rest of you do. She probably thought you wanted to celebrate without her hanging around. Which, unless I'm completely off here, I'd say is true."

"I know," Sara sighed. "It's just … I think it would have meant a lot to Greg. Damn it! If I were a better liar, this would never have happened."

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" Mary asked in complete bewilderment.

"If I had been able to convince Ecklie that Grissom and I had had that conference, maybe he would have left our team alone."

"Sara. First, this is not your fault. Grissom's the one who was supposed to conference with you. Second, from what you've told me, Ecklie is an ass. He probably would have split you up anyway."

Sara sighed. "Still … maybe I should tell Griss. Maybe he can …"

"What is there to be gained from that?"

"Alleviation of my guilt."

"You really feel like this is your fault?"

"I really do."

Mary sighed. "Well, if it will make you feel better…"

"It will."

* * *

Grissom sat in his office, once again tackling the endless mountain of paperwork on his desk. It was a rather slow night; he wished that they had at least _one_ homicide – it would get him out of the lab and away from this paperwork. He knew that Sofia was finishing her most recent case, but he was pretty sure that Sara and Greg were in the break room playing videogames. While he knew they had better things to do to occupy their time, he wasn't in the mood to be the "stern boss," so he stayed hidden away in his office.

Sighing, he turned his attention fully to his paperwork. Though it generally took some time, he did have the ability to bury himself in it and work until it was done.

He was fully buried when he heard the light knock on his door. He wondered if his visitor would leave if he didn't look up.

"Hi," Sara said cheerfully.

Her voice was enough to make him look up in time to see the bright smile on her face as she entered the office. He took off his glasses to look at her.

"You got a minute?" she asked.

"Sure," he said simply, putting his glasses and papers down on the desk. He always had time for her.

"We really haven't had a chance to talk since the staff changes," Sara said as she sat down across from him.

Grissom looked at her as if she were crazy. They talked every day. They had gone out for coffee together several times since the staff changes. What on earth did she mean by that comment?

"I … uh …" she said slowly, "I wanted to let you know that I said some things to Ecklie that may have done the team a disservice."

_Ah. That_. They truly hadn't discussed the break up of the team since that first, shell-shocked morning. "Ecklie wanted to break up the team, and he did," Grissom said, shaking his head slightly.

"He asked me if you and I had had our post-PEAP counseling session."

"And we didn't," Grissom acknowledged. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her, it was that their job often got in the way of the things they were supposed to do. "Regardless, you should never have to cover for your boss," he said. "I'm sorry."

"You've always been a little more than a boss to me," Sara acknowledged with a slight nod and smile.

Grissom's head came up slightly at her words. Did she mean …? Could she still …? He could feel his heart rate increase.

"Why do you think I moved to Vegas?" Sara smiled.

_My God_. At the time, it had never occurred to him that she was moving for any reason other than a career opportunity, or, at best, to help an old friend. But, listening to her now … His heart began to pound.

"I – I know our relationship has been complicated. It's probably my fault. It's probably _definitely_ my fault."

Grissom knew that he had to stop her, or she'd be in his office rambling until it was time for their next shift to start. "You completed your counseling, right?"

"Yeah, yes, yes," she said confidently, leaving no room for argument.

"And?" he asked quietly.

"Let's just say that … I … I sometimes look for validation in inappropriate places." The look she gave him was so full of meaning that there was no way he could possibly misinterpret it.

They looked into each other's eyes until they couldn't stand it anymore, and both looked down. Grissom felt his hammering heart dropping. _He_ was her inappropriate place. He knew it, and she knew it. She had been seeking his approval since that long-ago day when she had first apologized for being late for his lecture and asked him the first in an endless series of questions.

He wanted to change that. He didn't want her to feel like she had to seek his approval. He wanted her to know that she had it – that she would _always_ have it. And, he didn't want to be the thing in her life that inappropriate. He wanted everything about their relationship to be appropriate. Maybe not by lab standards – _romantic relationships between members of the same team are forbidden_ – and maybe not by society's standards – _she's fifteen years younger_ – but by their own standards. He knew as he looked into her eyes that they would both find a romantic relationship to be more than appropriate.

He almost surprised himself when he started talking.

"Look, let's … um …"

He stared at her and she stared at him. He had to ask her out. He had to ask her to do more than to join him for coffee. But, what should it be? Dinner? Breakfast? No, no, breakfast would be all wrong. That sounded like he was asking her to spend the night. Not that he didn't want to, but they hadn't really been out on a real date yet, so it seemed wrong. It was far too soon. He didn't want to rush into anything. They couldn't afford to screw this up. Maybe lunch … maybe a movie –

"It's okay. Okay?" she said, giving him a falsely bright smile.

He had taken too long to ask his question. She didn't know what was going through his head. She thought that he didn't really want to ask her, that he was just forcing himself to do it because it was what she wanted. His heart sank even further.

"You know what, we did our session," she said as she got up. "Don't forget to document this for Ecklie."

As she walked out of the office, Grissom felt his heart constrict and drop through his stomach to the floor. He had missed his opportunity.

This had become ridiculous. They had gone from friends to coworkers to friends … but, now he knew that they both wanted more. Just being friends wasn't enough for either of them. He had always thought that it was just his problem, and, clearly, Sara thought that it was just hers. She had no idea how he felt about her, or how much he wanted …

He would have to be the one to make a move. He just hoped that he'd be able to find the courage to do it.


	11. Freedom

A/N: I want to give a huge shout-out and thank you to Maisy13, who made the best promo video for "The Rules." The video is on YouTube, and the link to it is on my profile page – everyone should check it out!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue for this chapter came from episode 513, "Nesting Dolls." Okay, admit it – you just got a little excited. Hehe.

* * *

_Freedom_

"Sara, you're mine tonight."

"Okay," Sara replied.

Catherine left the locker room doorway, and hurried off down the hall. Sara looked at Greg with raised eyebrows.

"Grissom's giving me away now?"

"Looks like. Did you do something to him?"

"No," Sara said slowly. "At least, I don't think so." Her recent admission that he had always been more than a boss to her rolled around in her head, but she chose to ignore it. They had had plenty of normal conversations since then; surely, he wasn't trying to punish her for that.

Greg grinned. "Maybe Catherine stole you from him."

Sara laughed. "Yeah, I hear she's into poaching CSIs." She shrugged. "I hope I'll get to work with Nick and Warrick. I haven't seen much of them recently."

"Yeah, I guess we won't get to work together tonight," Greg replied.

"Hey, for all we know, you'll get to work by yourself," Sara grinned. "Once you get back from the prelim on Sherlock, of course."

Greg smiled.

"Stop being so nervous," Sara said calmly. "You're going to do great in court. It's like I said: you're a pro. You can do this. You know this case inside and out, and you know that you can prove that she did it. Just get out there and do your thing." She grinned. "If you're that nervous, we can always have Nick and Warrick stage a court scene for you. You know, so you can practice. I'll play the part of the judge."

"No, thanks," Greg grinned. "I don't see any need to be cross-examined by Warrick tonight."

"Well, then …"

"I'll be fine," he said. He smiled. "Thank you again, Sara, for everything. You're the best."

"You're more than welcome."

"Sara, you're with Catherine tonight," came a voice from behind her.

Sara rolled her eyes at Greg, then turned to see Grissom standing in the locker room doorway. "She already told me. Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No, I'm trying to make amends." He grinned sheepishly. "I may have destroyed the face on one of her bodies earlier."

"_What_?" Sara exclaimed.

"It wasn't exactly my fault …"

* * *

"This was entirely Grissom's fault," Catherine said as she set Sara up with half a face.

Sara giggled. "He said it wasn't."

"Look, I had two bodies buried in tar. So, naturally, Grissom practically gets off on the whole thing, and decides to be helpful. I was grateful at first – I never would have thought to use liquid nitrogen to freeze the tar so it could be chipped off. But, then, he chipped in too far and took off half this poor girl's face!"

"Yeah, he certainly did," Sara said.

"Do you think you can make something from the impression in the tar?"

"I can try," Sara replied.

"Great," Catherine grinned. "The guys and I will get started on the other evidence. Let us know how you do."

"You've got it."

"And, Sara," Catherine said, pausing in the doorway, "thank you."

Sara smiled. "No problem."

* * *

Sara spent a great deal of time in seclusion as she worked on creating a mold of the victim's face. Her thoughts kept drifting to Greg, wondering how he was doing on his first night in court. He had been so nervous, but she had every confidence that he would do fine.

By the time she had finished her plaster mold, she was rather pleased with herself. She had taken Grissom's mistake and turned it into a lovely rendering of the victim's face. It was almost as though she were only sleeping.

She presented the face to Catherine, Nick and Warrick, who had taken a break from combing through the other evidence. Based on everything they had gathered, as well as what Hodges could tell them from the soil samples Nick had collected, Sara was convinced that the victim had succumbed to domestic violence.

"Beat up, then shut up," she said rather grimly.

"We don't know for sure that it was like that," Nick said.

Sara shook her head. "Nicky, this woman's jaw was wired shut. You don't wind up like that very easily – unless someone helped you get there."

"Right," Catherine said briskly, hoping to avoid an argument. "All the ERs take pictures of abuse victims, which means there could be a head shot of this girl in a hospital in town. Sara, do you want to …?"

"I'm on it," Sara agreed.

"Good. Nick, Warrick, head back to the clothes and see if there's anything we've missed."

"Yes, ma'am," Nick said as he and Warrick stood up. He glanced back at Sara. "Sar … I didn't mean …"

"I know," Sara said, giving him a tight smile. "I know."

He smiled back. "Good. I'll see you later, okay?"

She nodded. "Have fun with the clothes."

"Oh, yeah," Warrick said sarcastically. "Come on, Nick. Let's go to the fashion show."

* * *

Within an hour, Sara envied Nick and Warrick's fashion show. She was sure she had seen enough pictures of women with broken jaws and bruised and battered faces to last a lifetime.

She did her best to remain objective as she looked at the pictures, trying to match one to the picture of the model of the victim's face. But, after the first few, she couldn't help but see her mother in each woman's face. The memories crashed over her in waves.

Her mother was late with dinner. He broke her jaw.

She and Sara spent too long at the park. He broke her nose.

She spent more on groceries than she had expected. He gave her a black eye.

Sara tapped her fingers against the table, trying to bring herself back into the present. He was gone now, and he'd never hurt them again.

Of course, there was always the reason he was gone to consider …

She grabbed her hair back from her face with her hands and held it there for a minute.

"Focus, Sara," she murmured. "You're here to figure how who she is, not to dwell on the past."

She flipped another file open and stopped. She had found her. Their Jane Doe had a name.

Svetlana Melton.

* * *

Grissom was walking down the hall in the lab when his cell phone began to ring. Frowning slightly – this call was distracting him from getting his DNA results from Mia – he flipped his phone open.

"Grissom."

"Hey, Grissom, it's Greg. I just finished up in court."

"How did it go?" Grissom asked. He tried to keep his voice even, but he was more than a little concerned over how his newest CSI had done during his first time in court.

"Not bad," Greg replied. "I just wanted to know if I should come back to the lab or go to a scene."

"Come back here," Grissom replied. "Sofia just got back from her scene. It's a double homicide, so I'm sure she could use your help."

"You've got it."

Greg snapped his phone shut with a grin. After surviving his first time in court, he felt like he was on top of the world. He could hardly wait to tell Sara about it. She'd be so excited for him.

* * *

By the time Greg got back to the lab, Sara was gone. According to Judy, she had gone to PD with Catherine to interrogate a suspect in their investigation. Greg was a bit disappointed, but went to the locker room to change. He could find Sara later.

* * *

Just looking at Andrew Melton made Sara's skin crawl. He admitted that Svetlana – like his current wife – had been a mail order bride. He said that she had accused him of hitting her, which he never did, and that she had left town. He didn't look too hard for her – he didn't want to be accused of anything else.

Until they found something more, they had to let him go. Sara was incredibly angry when she and Catherine left PD to return to the lab. This man was obviously abusive toward his wife, and Catherine was just standing there saying there was nothing they could do. Sara wasn't willing to accept that. She would not stand by while another woman was beaten by the man who had sworn to love and cherish her until her death.

"We need to watch her," she said as they walked through the halls of CSI together.

"Watch her?" Catherine asked.

"The wife," Sara clarified. "We need to make sure that she's protected."

"Whoa," Catherine said, holding up her hands. "What are you saying, Sara? That we assign her a bodyguard?"

"Not exactly," Sara said. "All I am asking is to have black and whites do regular welfare checks."

"If the wife asks for help," Catherine said in a tone that suggested that she wanted this conversation to end.

"Well, that's kind of hard to do when you don't speak English and you're a sex slave," Sara said. "I'm sure she doesn't know her rights."

"You can't arrest someone for marrying the wrong person."

"You would know."

Sara had finally crossed the line. Catherine was ending this conversation as quickly as possible.

"If the guy's an abuser, if he killed his first wife, we will build a case and we will nail him," she said firmly.

"And, in the meantime, he can just keep using her as a punching bag!" Sara exclaimed.

"Sara, I was there! There wasn't a mark on her."

If Sara had a dollar for every "invisible" mark on her mother, she'd never have to work another day. Just as she had crossed the line with Catherine, Catherine had now crossed the line with her.

"Not that we could see, Catherine!" she said angrily.

Catherine stopped and turned to look at Sara. "You know," she said quietly, venomously, "every time we get a case with a hint of domestic violence or abuse, you go off the deep end. What is your problem?"

"Yeah, I probably do," Sara said angrily, her voice rising several volume levels until she was shouting, "and _you_ let your sexuality cloud your judgment about men, and I'm gonna go over your head!"

"Sidle!"

Both women turned to see Ecklie standing at the end of the hall, looking as angry as Sara had ever seen him.

"Get in my office. Now."

Sara knew that she probably should have been scared for her job, but she wasn't. She was still so angry over Catherine and her lack of reaction to this case that she couldn't think of anything else. She followed Ecklie into his office, refusing to sit when he asked her to. He babbled on about her inability to control her temper with coworkers and suspects, then stated that she would have far more complaints against her if Grissom documented everything as he should.

Everything that had happened with Mr. Melton and with Catherine took the backburner to Ecklie's criticism of Grissom. Sara's temper jumped up again.

"The only reason this is _your_ lab is because _Grissom_ doesn't kiss ass," she said. Before she could stop herself, she was truly on a roll. "You couldn't hack it in the field so you fail your way up, you _break up_ our team, and now you just hang out in the hallways waiting for one of us to screw up."

"Sidle, you're on one week suspension without pay," Ecklie practically yelled at her.

"Great," Sara replied.

"And when you get back, you're apologizing to Catherine."

"No, I'm not," she said defiantly.

Without giving Ecklie time to actually fire her, Sara left his office, slamming the door behind her. She walked blindly through the halls, unable to focus on anything but the rage that pounded through her. She went straight to the locker room, where she picked up her purse.

"Hey," Nick said as he walked past, "are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sara said tensely.

Nick gave her a look. "Yeah, and I've never ridden a horse. Sara, what's going on?"

"I'm sort of suspended."

"What?" Nick exclaimed. "Sara! What happened? What did that balding weasel do?"

"It's … um … a long story."

"Sweetheart, I spend my days listening to long stories. What can I do to help you?"

Sara sighed. "Nicky, I'm sorry, but I just can't talk about this right now. Can I call you later?"

He nodded. "Just make sure you do. If you 'forget,' _I'll_ call _you_."

She smiled. "I know you will."

He grinned and touched her cheek. "See ya, darlin'."

"See you," she nearly whispered.

Nick's kindness was nearly her undoing. However, she took a deep breath, and walked sedately out of the building. It was time to go home and begin what she was sure would be the longest week of her life.

* * *

Greg walked into the layout room, where Sofia was standing with a look of shock on her face. He gave her a grin.

"Working with me upsets you that much?"

"No, of course not," she said. She shook her head. "Have you heard what happened?"

"No," Greg said, frowning slightly.

"Ecklie suspended Sara."

"What?" Greg nearly yelled. "Why?"

"I don't know," Sofia said slowly. "Nick just said that she told him that she was suspended, but nothing else. She promised to call him later, but we probably won't have any details until then."

"This is ridiculous," Greg said. "I can't imagine Sara doing anything that would merit a suspension."

"No, she wouldn't," Sofia agreed. "She's far too dedicated … she'd never …" She shook her head again. "I don't know what Ecklie's doing, but it's completely out of line. That man's on some sort of asinine power trip that needs to end."

"Great!" Greg said enthusiastically. "How can we end it?"

Sofia smiled sadly. "I don't think we can, Greg. We just have to do what we can to support Sara."

Greg looked at her closely. "I thought you and Sara didn't get along?"

"I respect her as a professional," she said. "She's a great CSI, and it's stupid for great CSIs to be suspended. She should be out in the field, solving crimes."

Greg grinned. "Can I tell her you said that?"

Sofia smiled at him and rolled her eyes. "If you must."

* * *

"Grissom! We need to talk!"

Grissom looked up from his computer screen to see Catherine marching into his office, looking angrier than he had seen her in years. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She slammed the door behind her and sat down across from him. "Sara."

"Sara?"

"She went off on this suspect we had in today. Truly, Gil, it was terrible. I've never heard her talk to anyone that way. Then, she went crazy because I refused to send the police to check up on the guy's wife. Then …"

Catherine kept talking, but Grissom barely heard her. He was sure that he had discovered the source of the problem. His mind flew back in time, to Sara's first year working with him in Vegas. They had worked a case together that involved a man who had physically abused and then killed his wife. Then, too, Sara had lost control with the suspect. There had been other cases, too, over the years … He could see a pattern …

"She has problems dealing with domestic violence," he said slowly.

"Forget about the domestic violence thing! She verbally attacked me in the hall!" Catherine exclaimed. "Gil, the girl is completely out of control. Ecklie took her away to deal with her, but –"

"_Ecklie_ has her?" Grissom exclaimed.

"Yes, and he –"

Catherine was cut off by the ringing of the phone on Grissom's desk. He made a face at Catherine and picked it up.

"Grissom."

"Grissom, it's Ecklie."

"Hello, Conrad," Grissom said smoothly.

"I need to see you in my office right now."

"I'll be there in a minute," Grissom agreed.

He hung up the phone and looked back at Catherine. She gave him a smirk.

"Received your royal summons?"

"Yes."

"Gil … you're going to deal with this, right? You're not going to just ignore it and pretend it'll go away?"

"That could be difficult if Ecklie has anything to say about it. He has a way of making sure that I don't ignore things."

"I'm serious," Catherine said. "I know this is Sara, and I know you two have the most bizarre relationship out there, but what she's done … she needs to be …"

"Punished?" Grissom asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yes."

"She's not your daughter, Catherine."

"And she's not your girlfriend, Grissom," Catherine countered. "All I'm saying is to follow Ecklie's recommendations."

"Do you know what those recommendations might be?"

"I haven't talked to him, if that's what you mean. But, I can take a pretty good guess."

"So can I," Grissom sighed. "Is that what you really want, Catherine? Over something like this?"

Catherine remained silent, staring at him without blinking.

He sighed. "We'll talk later, Cath."

"Gil …"

"We'll talk later," he said again, and led her out of his office.

* * *

Grissom walked into Ecklie's office as though he were an executioner. _When it comes to Sara's career, he might be_, Grissom thought.

"Hi, Gil," Ecklie said.

"Conrad," Grissom replied. "What can I do for you?"

"Cut the crap," Ecklie said. "I'm sure you've talked to Catherine by now, and I'm sure you know exactly what's going on."

"I talked to Catherine," Grissom acknowledged. "She gave me her version of what happened between her and Sara."

"Well, here's mine," Ecklie said. "Sara was completely inappropriate with Catherine in front of the entire lab. She insulted her, she belittled her, she threatened to go 'over her head' – to you, I suppose – and, once she was in my office, she did the same to me."

"I don't understand why she –"

"You know that motive isn't our business," Ecklie cut in. "Follow the evidence, Grissom. Sara is out of control, and she's going to spiral out further. We need to take care of this problem before it blows up in our faces."

"Sara is just a _problem_ to you? She's not a person anymore?"

Ecklie continued as though he had never heard Grissom speak. "Fire her, Grissom. I don't want her working in this lab anymore."

"Can't I ­–"

"I want her gone, Gil. You're her supervisor. It's your job to make it happen."

* * *

Grissom felt shaky as he left Ecklie's office. The mandate was very clear. The problem was going to be following it.

After years as a CSI, Grissom knew enough to hear both sides of the story before making a final decision. And, he had a feeling that once he had heard Sara's side, firing her might not be the best course of action.

It was time to hear what she had to say for herself.

* * *

Sara sat at her desk, proofreading Mary's dissertation. Mary was finally nearly done with her doctorate; her goal was to have her dissertation finished before the baby's birth. While she still had months to go, she was only halfway through the paper; she had sent Sara the portion she had finished for her review. Sara had almost no knowledge of Mary's topic, but Mary felt that this made her a better proofreader; she was more attune to ambiguous or confusing statements.

She had just flipped the page when she heard a knock on her door. Frowning slightly, she turned off her stereo and went to the door, looking into the peep-hole before opening it.

Grissom.

She sighed. Under normal circumstances, she would have been thrilled to see him standing on her doorstep. With things as they were, however, it made her heart drop as though it were made of stone. Somehow, she knew that a personal visit from her supervisor did not mean she was about to receive good news. Knowing that she needed to face him, she opened the door and tried to smile.

"Well, if you're here, it can't be good," she said.

"Can I come in?" Grissom asked.

Sara nodded slightly and stepped back, opening the door wider for him to enter her apartment. She gave him a false smile and shook the bottle of beer she had been drinking.

"Wanna ask me if I'm drunk?"

"We both know that isn't your problem," Grissom replied. He turned to face her. "I spoke to Catherine."

"Ecklie?" Sara asked, trying to swallow the fear that had jumped into her throat.

"He wants me to fire you," Grissom acknowledged, trying hard to keep the sorrow out of his eyes. _Please, Sara, give me a reason not to do it._

"I figured," she sighed. Time to once again bury her feelings. If there was no work to help her … She swallowed that thought and moved on to being a good hostess. "Can I get you anything?"

"Sure," Grissom said, "an explanation."

"I … lost my temper," Sara said, giving him the puppy dog eyes that had convinced lesser men to pat her on the head and leave her alone.

"That seems to be happening quite a bit," Grissom said, determined to stay in this apartment until he had the answers that he needed. "Do you know why?" _Come on, Sara, give me something!_

"What difference does it make?" Sara asked, moving to stand behind her armchair. "I'm still fired."

Grissom watched her from his spot in her small kitchen. "It makes a difference to me."

He wanted more from her? Fine. Her PEAP counselor had given her plenty of reasons for her problems. "I have a problem with authority," she began. "I choose men," she indicated him, "who are emotionally unavailable. I'm self-destructive. All of the above?"

Grissom looked at her for a moment, seeing straight through her empty words. Something – something awful, something that tormented her – was lurking right below the surface of Sara's false bravado. He would get to the bottom of this.

"Have you ever gone a week without a rationalization?" he asked.

Sara shook her head and stared at him, completely irritated.

"It's from _The Big Chill_," he explained, watching as she sat down. "One of the characters explaining a basic fact of life: that rationalizations are more important to us than … sex, even."

"I am not rationalizing anything," Sara said. "I crossed the line with Catherine and I was … insubordinate to Ecklie." Oh, how it killed her to admit that. She still felt that Ecklie had had her words coming for a _long_ time.

"Why?" Grissom asked.

"Leave it alone," Sara said quickly, shaking her head and refusing to make eye contact.

"No, Sara," Grissom said.

She finally looked up at him. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to know why you're so angry."

"Grissom, you don't … you have no idea …"

"Make me understand," he said, finally leaving his post holding up the counter to join her. He sat down on the couch and looked at her intensely. "I know that you were heartbroken over those little boys, but you wouldn't talk to me about it. And that was okay, because it seemed like you were dealing with it fine. But, this time … Sara, you're not dealing with this. Not if you're blowing up at Catherine in the middle of the lab."

"Not dealing with what?" she asked.

"That's what I need to know," he said urgently. "Please, Sara, let me help you."

"Griss…"

He drew a deep breath. "Tell me why the domestic violence cases bother you so much."

Her head jerked up to look at him. "What?"

"We've worked together for a long time," he said. "I can see the pattern. I just … I want to know why."

"Cases with kids bother you."

"Yes, they do," he agreed. "But, they don't take me to the places that the domestic cases take you."

She heaved a great sigh as she made her decision. "Christina told me to tell you about this ages ago."

"About what?"

"My past," she said. "My family."

"Will you?" he asked.

She nodded slowly. "My … father … was abusive," she said slowly. "He would hit my mother for … any reason, really. He didn't hit me as much. Just every once in awhile." She swallowed. "He was so strong. My mom … he would break her nose, her jaw … give her black eyes and bruises. He broke her arms … Once he broke her fingers for taking money without asking."

If he were honest with himself, Grissom knew that he had expected something like this. Still, though, to hear her talking about her parents in such a way broke his heart. He wanted to say something comforting, to touch her, but he refrained. He knew that she needed to talk, and so he let her continue.

"One night, they got into an argument because … I think it was because she wanted to take me to visit her sister in Los Angeles. My aunt was sick … she had cancer … and we didn't know how much longer she had. But, he said no.

"For once, she really, truly stood up to him. She screamed at him as much as he screamed at her. Then, he started hitting her.

"I could hear it," she continued. "I was in my room … it was next-door to theirs. I could hear the screaming, the physical fight … I didn't know exactly what was happening, though …"

Grissom closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he was shocked to see how composed she seemed.

"I finally went to their room when all the sound stopped. My mom was just standing there, over his body, holding this bloody knife. She looked at me … and it was like she slipped into shock or something. 'Call 911, Sara,' she said. 'Daddy had an accident.'" She shook her head. "You know, I must have called 911, but I don't really remember it. That's the last clear memory I have."

Grissom wanted desperately to say something, but again, remained silent. He watched as she drew her knees up under her chin.

"It's funny," she continued, "the things that you remember and the things that you don't, you know? There was a smell of iron in the air … cast-off on the bedroom wall … there was this young cop, puking his guts … I don't remember the woman who took me into foster care." She looked at him as though surprised by this. "I can't remember her name. Which is strange, you know, because … I couldn't let go of her hand."

"Well," Grissom finally spoke as she lapsed into silence, "the mind has its filters."

"I do remember the looks," Sara said. "I became the girl whose father was stabbed to death."

Grissom looked at her with nothing but kindness and compassion, a look she had not seen much of as a teenager. She took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to continue, to ask the question that had tormented her for years.

"Do you think there's a murder gene?" she asked. In that one question, she confessed her greatest fear. Tears filled her eyes. She had never, in her entire life, been so open with anyone before. In that moment, her entire world seemed to hinge on Grissom's answer to her question.

"I don't believe that genes are a predictor of violent behavior," Grissom replied.

"You wouldn't know that at my house," Sara said, shaking her head, feeling a bit relieved by his answer. "The fights … the yelling, the trips to the hospital … I thought it was the way that everybody lived." The next statement was almost impossible for her, but she had come so far … she had to finish this confession. "When my mother killed my father … I found out that it wasn't."

She fought bravely for control for a moment longer, then finally broke down. She cradled her head in one hand as she cried. Grissom watched her for a second, wanting to do something, anything …

He reached out and took her free hand, holding it firmly in his. She returned the gentle pressure, clinging to him, trying to stay afloat in a sea of horrible memories.

Grissom held her hand until her spasm of tears had passed. She finally released his hand, bringing both of hers up to wipe across her eyes.

"God, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to go to pieces on you like that."

"Sara, you're human. I'd be more upset if you didn't feel anything."

"Still," she said. "I don't think this is why you came here."

He shook his head. "This is _exactly_ why I came here."

She gave him a slight smile. "Well, in that case, I'm glad I could provide an adequate amount of trauma for you."

"Sara, who knows about this?"

"Which part?"

He frowned.

"Christina knows about my dad being abusive and about my mom killing him," she said. "But …" Tears welled up in her eyes again. "I've never told anyone about my fear of the murder gene before."

"Sara …"

"I'm serious, Griss. I completely lost control with Catherine and Ecklie. What if … what if I lose control and go nuts and start stabbing everyone I see?"

Grissom paused and considered his words. "My dad was a botanist," he said at last. "My mom ran an art gallery. They were the happiest couple I could imagine until my dad died of a heart attack. Rarely fought, never even spanked me. American dream, right?"

Sara shrugged.

"Yet, I still lose my temper. I've put my fist into walls. Screamed at people. I once threw a coffee pot across the room because Ecklie had made me so angry. I watched it smash into a million pieces and didn't feel bad. I think we can agree that my parents didn't pass on any violent tendencies to me. Losing your temper and getting angry are human nature, Sara, not inherited behavior. And, I think you certainly have enough control to avoid stabbing anyone in your path just because you're angry."

"I know that," she said. "Logically, I can't refute it. But, emotionally …"

He nodded. "That's a different story."

She sighed and fell silent for a few minutes. "You can leave if you want," she said at last.

Grissom looked at her as though she had lost her mind. "What?"

"You came to hear why I'm so angry, and now you know. I spent the first thirteen years of my life watching my father beat up my mother until she finally snapped and killed him, which makes me a bit too sensitive to the domestic violence cases. So, now that you know exactly why you've fired me, feel free to go home."

"Okay, dear, I think we need to get a few things straight," Grissom said. "First, I am not leaving you. Not now. Not like this."

Sara looked at him in surprise. She had always imagined that hearing about her past would make anyone run as far from her as they could. It had certainly made her classmates avoid her during junior high school. Somehow, the fact that he didn't want to leave created a warm feeling in her chest.

"Second, I am not firing you."

Her eyebrows shot up. "But, you said …"

"I said that Ecklie wants me to fire you," Grissom said. "That hardly means that I intend to do so."

A ghost of a grin floated across Sara's face. "Are you sure that's wise? He's already split up our team. Who knows what he'll do to us if you don't fire me?"

Grissom chuckled. "I'll take care of Ecklie. Right now, I want us to worry about you."

A warm feeling that had started in Sara's chest began to radiate through her entire body. She gave him a small smile

He returned her smile and took her hand again. "Sara …" He drew a deep breath. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For telling me about your past. For letting me in. For trusting me."

"I do trust you," she whispered. "I trust you with my life."

He nodded slowly. "And I trust you with mine."

* * *

Grissom stayed with Sara for hours. They sat together on her couch, watching more daytime tv than either of them could normally stand. They talked a bit, but mostly sat in a comfortable silence. After her confession, Sara felt too spent to talk, and Grissom wisely did not try to draw her out. He was content to sit with her and to convince himself that she was and would be fine.

He finally took his leave, knowing that he needed to go home to shower and change before going back to work. Sara looked more than a little sad as she walked him to the door.

"You won't have enough time to sleep," she said.

"I'll get a few hours," he shrugged. "I've gone without sleep before. So have you."

She nodded. "Grissom … thank you so much. For everything."

"You're welcome," he replied. He smiled and cupped her cheek in his hand for a moment. "May I come back to see you later?"

She nodded. "I'd like that," she said a bit shyly.

His smile widened. "So would I." He dropped his hand from her face a bit reluctantly. "I'll see you soon, then."

She nodded. "Good night, Griss."

"Good night."

* * *

Grissom made it in for the start of his shift to find several voicemails, inner office memos and emails from Ecklie, all demanding to see him. Knowing that he should face him first, he made his way to Ecklie's office.

Catherine was there, going over something with Ecklie. Grissom sighed. He wasn't ready to face her yet.

Then again, maybe it was for the best. She'd be sure to hear it from him.

"You wanted to talk to me about Sara?" he asked as he entered the office.

"I haven't received your disciplinary action," Ecklie said. "What's the hold up?"

"Well, I'm not firing her," Grissom replied in a tone that invited no argument.

"What action are you taking?" Catherine asked.

"I've taken it," Grissom replied.

"I thought I was clear," Ecklie said.

"Oh, you were," Grissom said. "Now, let me be clear. Sara's behavior is a direct result of my management."

"So, I should fire you?" Ecklie asked.

"But you won't," Grissom said.

"Look, Gil, I've been there. We're human. We get attached to people, we try to fix their problems. It doesn't work."

"She's a great criminalist, Conrad, and I need her."

"I'm sure you do," Ecklie said, getting up from his chair. "You know what? She's a loose cannon with a gun, and she's all yours."

He stalked out of the room, leaving Grissom alone with Catherine. She looked up at him, her expression leaving no question as to how she felt.

"Catherine, I …"

"Save it," she said, standing up. She shook her head. "You know, Gil, we've been friends and colleagues for a long time … longer than she's even been out of college. We've always stood together in the past. I just … I thought that you would have my back on this."

"This has nothing to do with you and me and our friendship," Grissom said. "This is about Sara and her …"

"And her what?" Catherine asked angrily. "Her ability to blow her boss?"

Grissom looked as though Catherine had slapped him across the face. "Is that all you think of her? Is that all you think of _me_?"

"No, I … Gil, I'm sorry. That was across the line."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. He turned to walk away, pausing in the doorway. "You know, Catherine, I'd expect a bit more sensitivity from the woman who was so upset over a subordinate insulting her at work."

He walked out of the room, leaving Catherine feeling terrible.


	12. Forward Momentum

A/N: This is something of a "bridge" chapter, so I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. No episode stuff in this chapter, but Grissom and Sara's scene does have some musical inspiration: Howie Day's "Collide." I was listening to it on the way to work, and thought that I had to use an image from it for this chapter. I'll give you ten bonus points if you can find the reference!

* * *

_Forward Momentum _

Sara went to bed soon after Grissom left. She felt drained, spent, exhausted … in short, it was the feeling that generally led to at least two nights of insomnia. However, she was willing to give just about anything a shot, including sleep, so she got ready for bed and burrowed down beneath the covers.

She knew exactly how this would go. She would begin in her usual position on her stomach, expecting to stay like that for about fifteen minutes before she'd flip over onto her back to try falling asleep like that. Within two hours, she would have tried every position imaginable, including sleeping "up-side down" with her head at the foot of her bed. By the end of three hours, she'd be up and wandering around the apartment, trying to find something to watch on tv. It was a familiar routine, but one she did not like to follow.

Sighing, she flopped down onto her stomach, reaching up to put her arms around her pillow. She was a bit fearful that her thoughts would drift to her parents and all that she had told Grissom, forcing her mind into a state far too active to allow for sleep. However, as she closed her eyes, the only images that came to mind were the smile on Grissom's face as he said goodnight to her and the feel of his hand against her cheek.

She fell asleep within seconds, the side of her face cradled against the pillow, her stomach pressed against the mattress. As she sank into her dreams, her lips curved into gentle smile.

* * *

Grissom managed to avoid Catherine the entire time he was at work. It wasn't exactly difficult, given that they no longer worked on the same team. Generally, though, they would see each other at least a few times on any given night. The fact that he didn't see her at all suggested that she was as eager to avoid him as he was to avoid her.

He frowned as he thought about it. Although he felt that her comment about him and Sara was way out of line, he didn't want to destroy their friendship or their working relationship over it, and he doubted that she did either. They would have to talk, but for now …

It could wait.

He joined Greg and Sofia on their double homicide, noting that the two of them were getting chummier. Their relationship was nowhere near the friendship that Greg and Sara shared, but it was encouraging to the man who had run a shift that was more like a family for five years. He kept hoping to recapture some of that magic with his new team. As he watched Sofia patiently showing Greg a processing technique, and listened to their easy conversation, he thought for the first time that it truly might be possible to rebuild something of what he had lost.

He left them working on fingerprints, stating that he would begin on the first suspect's clothes. He had been working for nearly an hour when he heard a voice in the doorway.

"So, Griss …"

"Yes, Greg?" Grissom said, looking up from the shirt he was processing.

Greg hovered in the layout room doorway hesitantly for a moment, then stepped inside. "Have you talked to Sara?"

"I have."

"And?"

"And, what?" Grissom asked.

Greg sighed. "Yesterday, I asked Catherine what we could do to help Sara, but she said … well, I think she was pretty pissed at Sara, and basically refused to help her. Sofia said that Ecklie's on some crazy power trip, but there's nothing we can do." He looked at Grissom a bit desperately. "If there's one person on this team who consistently makes a difference, it's Sara. We need her, Grissom. Can't we do something to help her?"

Grissom's eyes softened as he realized how much Greg missed working with his "big sister." He needed to tell him something to make the situation easier to handle. "Her suspension will have to stand, Greg. I don't have the authority to overrule Ecklie."

"Great," Greg sighed.

"However, I do have the authority to deal with her disciplinary action from this point forward. And …" He smiled slightly. "Let's just say that I always have my team's best interests at heart."

Greg's face lit up. "She'll be back, then? She's not fired?"

"No, she's not. She'll be back once her week is up."

"Does she know that?"

"She does."

Greg grinned. "This is great. I knew you'd fix everything."

Grissom smiled. "Well, I try."

Greg practically skipped out of the layout room. Grissom smiled and shook his head. Sometimes, he wondered if Greg had ever moved past the age of twelve.

Grissom glanced down at his watch, surprised to see that his shift was nearly over. He immediately began to pack his evidence away. This was one morning when he fully intended to leave on time.

* * *

Greg bounced all the way into the evidence vault, where Sofia was logging in the last of the evidence she and Greg had been processing.

"Hey," she said, joining him in the hall and walking with him to the locker room. "It looks like we've got a slam dunk on our hands … as long as Grissom doesn't ruin it for us with something he finds on those clothes …" She trailed off, staring at his over-the-top grin. "Okay, what's going on? You look way to excited to just be happy over finishing this case. We haven't been working on it _that_ long."

"Sara's coming back," Greg said enthusiastically as they entered the locker room and began packing up their things.

Sofia smiled, looking rather relieved. "Ecklie didn't fire her, then?"

"Grissom said he – Grissom – had to handle her disciplinary action beyond her suspension, and that he's not going to fire her."

"Good. The team needs her."

"I agree," Greg replied, pulling on his jacket and throwing his bag over his shoulder. He gave Sofia a smile. "We need _you_, too."

"You handled everything just fine without me before."

Greg frowned. "Don't you like working with us, Sofia?"

"I _do_ like working with you," she replied. "It's just …"

"What?"

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

"Sofia …"

"No, really," she insisted. "Don't worry about it."

Greg started to back toward the door on his way out. "Look, I know that we don't know each other all that well yet, but if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

She gave him a bright, genuine smile. "Thanks, Greg. That really does mean a lot."

"Well, I mean it."

"I know. That's why it means so much."

* * *

Grissom walked into the coffee shop and stared at the muffins in the bakery case. He wanted to surprise Sara with their usual after-shift breakfast of coffee and muffins. Deciding to go with their standard fare, he purchased two coffees and two blueberry muffins. Once he had paid for their breakfast treat, he carried the drinks and muffins to his car.

He hummed along with the radio as he pulled out of the parking lot. It was going to be a good day.

* * *

For the first time in recent memory, Sara slept for nearly twelve hours. She was certain that she would have gone for gold if the ringing of her cell phone hadn't awoken her. She reached for it groggily, opening it before even checking the display.

"Hello?"

"Sara?"

"Yes?"

"It's Nick."

"Nicky," she said, sitting up in an effort to wake herself up. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "Oh, man, Sara, did I wake you up?"

"Maybe a little," she replied.

"Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry. I didn't even think to look at the time before I called."

"It's fine," she said, finally feeling fully awake. "How's everything at the lab?"

"Great," he said enthusiastically. "We got him, Sara. We got Svetlana's husband for murdering her. You were right all along. He really treated those girls badly."

"I'm glad you got him," Sara said. "I wish I had been wrong, though."

"Yeah, me, too." He paused. "How's everything with you? Do you want to talk about your suspension?"

"There's not much to tell, really," she said. "I went overboard with a suspect, yelled at Catherine, and insulted Ecklie."

"Whoa," Nick said. "I'd say that's quite a bit to tell!"

Sara couldn't help but laugh. "I guess you could say I had a bad day."

"Yeah, I think you did. You _are_ just suspended, right?"

"Yeah. I'll be back in a week."

"Well, that's not so bad, then. What are you –?"

A knock sounded on her door, nearly scaring Sara to death. "Nicky, hang on … there's someone at the door."

"This early in the morning?"

"Yeah," she said as she padded barefoot across her apartment to the door.

"Were you expecting someone?"

"Um …" She peered though the peephole to see Grissom standing on the other side of the door. How he had managed to knock was anyone's guess; he was holding a bag in one hand and a drink carrier with two coffees in the other. Sara's heart melted as a smile stretched across her face.

"Sara?"

"I've got to go, Nick. It's … one of my friends just got here with breakfast."

"Oh," Nick said. "Well, great. Enjoy your breakfast. We'll talk later?"

"Yeah, I'll give you a call."

"Great. See you, Sar."

"Bye."

Sara flipped her phone shut and tossed in on the side table with her keys. She was about to open the door when she realized how she looked. She was still wearing the shorts and tank top she had slept in, her hair was a mess, and she hadn't even considered brushing her teeth or washing her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, reminding herself that this was _Grissom_, the man who had seen her after working a triple or sifting through trash in a landfill. She opened her eyes and the door.

"Hi," she said with a smile.

"Good morning," he replied. He held up his bag like an offering. "I brought breakfast."

"That's great," Sara said, stepping back so that he could enter the apartment. "Um … I know this is probably very rude of me, but would you mind unpacking that while I go … freshen up?"

Grissom finally looked at her fully, realizing that, while she looked beautiful as always, she had obviously just rolled out of bed. His face fell.

"Oh, Sara, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think … did I wake you up?"

"No, Nick took care of that for you," she replied. At his questioning look, she continued, "He called a few minutes ago. He wanted to tell me that they closed the case."

Grissom nodded. "Warrick told me."

"Not Catherine?" Sara asked as she made her way toward the bedroom.

"No," Grissom said shortly, putting the muffins and coffee down on her counter.

"Is everything okay with you two?" Sara called from inside the bathroom that adjoined to her bedroom.

"Catherine and I … let's just say that things are a little tense there," Grissom said, raising his voice to talk to her.

Sara popped back out of the bedroom with a toothbrush clenched between her lips. She pulled it out of her mouth and looked at him in shock. "What? Why?"

Grissom made a face. "She didn't appreciate me taking sides in your fight. Well, better put, she didn't appreciate me taking _your_ side."

"I didn't see it as being about taking sides."

"Neither did I."

Sara sighed and returned to the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth. When she finally reemerged from her bedroom, her teeth and face were clean, her hair was in a ponytail, and she had changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt. While she knew she still wasn't ready to strut down the runway, she felt far better about herself.

Grissom was still busy in the kitchen, adding cream and sugar to their coffee and arranging the muffins on a plate. Seeing that he didn't need her help, Sara went into the living room and opened the blinds, letting the early morning sunshine into her home. She smiled as she looked out the window.

"You know what I love most about this apartment?" she asked. "That these windows face east. I love to see the sun when I get home from work. Do you see how it just lights up the whole place? I usually leave the blinds open when I'm working so that the house will be full of sun when I walk in after shift."

Grissom had looked up as soon as she began talking, and found himself utterly mesmerized. She looked gorgeous, standing in the window with the sun reflecting in her eyes and catching the highlights in her hair. She turned to him with a glowing smile, and, in that moment, he was sure that he would have given her anything she asked of him.

And, in that moment, he realized that there was only one thing he wanted to ask of her.

"Sara, will you have dinner with me?"

She frowned slightly. "You just brought us breakfast."

"Yes, I know. I mean …" He paused and took a deep breath, ready to try again. "I mean, will you have dinner with me tonight? Or tomorrow? Or some night in the near future?" He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he blushed. "I'd like to take you on a real date," he finished shyly.

Sara's beaming smile lit up her face with a glow that rivaled the rising sun. "I'd love to," she said. "When do you want to go?"

"Is tonight too soon?"

Sara shook her head. "We both know that I won't be at work."

"Well, I'm off tonight, too, so I think that it will work."

"Great," she said cheerfully. "What time?"

"Seven?"

"Perfect."

"Good. I'll be here to pick you up at seven, then."

"You don't have to pick me up if you don't want to. Where are we going? I can meet you there."

Grissom looked utterly horrified. "I invited you," he said. "Of course, I'll pick you up."

Sara giggled, realizing what a gentleman he truly was. "Well, in that case, you'd better take your muffin and get out of here."

"What? Why?"

She grinned. "If we're going to do this right, we're not going to see each other until tonight."

"Oh, that's just mean."

"Well, it's how this is going to go. Besides, you need to get some sleep so you can go back to work."

"I already told you that I'm off."

"I know. But, Catherine isn't, and you need to talk to her."

"Sara …"

"I'm serious, Grissom. You two have been friends for far longer than I've even known you. I will not have you throw away your friendship just because you saved my job. That's ridiculous."

Grissom sighed. "Cath and I … we'll be fine. We've survived worse."

"I'm sure you have," she said. "But, right now, I want you to go and make it right."

"Fine. If it's what you want, I'll do it."

"It is."

He smiled slightly. "You're really throwing me out, then?"

"I really am," she laughed.

"Okay. I'll take my coffee and leave."

He picked up his coffee and muffin and headed back toward the door. Sara followed him, standing beside him as he opened it.

"Thank you for bringing breakfast," she said. "It was really sweet of you."

He smiled. "You're welcome." He touched her cheek. "I'll see you at seven."

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

Grissom left Sara's apartment and drove straight to Catherine's house. He knew that she would be home and awake; Lindsey had likely just left for school. He pulled into her driveway and made the long walk to the front door.

He only waited a moment after ringing the bell for Catherine to throw the door open. As he had expected, she had obviously been awake for awhile; she looked stunned to see him.

"Gil," she said, "this is a surprise."

He smiled slightly and held up his hands. "I come in peace."

"I'd expect nothing less."

"May I come in?"

"Of course." Catherine stepped back to admit him, obviously still shocked that he had come to visit her. "Lindsey just left for school, and Mom's off at her senior aerobics class, so we're on our own for right now."

"Good," Grissom said. "I think we need to talk about what happened yesterday."

Catherine nodded. She had a feeling that that was why he had come to her house. She led him into the living room. They sat down together on the couch and stared at each other for a moment.

"Look," Catherine said, breaking the silence, "I was way out of line with what I said. I didn't mean it; I was just angry. I know you and I know Sara, and I know that you're not the type of people who would … I know you're not the type of man to accept sexual favors for some sort of work benefits. And, I know that Sara's not the type of woman to give them, either."

"You're right," Grissom said.

"I also know that you always fight for what's right," Catherine added. "And, if you think that Sara was justified in what she did, then she must have been."

Grissom shook his head slowly. "I think she could have handled the situation better," he said.

"No arguments here."

He shook his head. "This is such a mess, Catherine. I never meant to hurt you, or to get involved in this situation the way that I have. I wanted to stay outside of everything. It's the same thing I've always told Sara that she needs to avoid – she always gets too emotionally involved in her cases. Now, I've done the same thing with this argument that you two had."

"Why did you do it?" Catherine asked quietly.

"Why did I do what?"

"Why did you defend her? Why didn't you fire her like Ecklie told you to?"

He sighed. "I don't know, Cath. Maybe Ecklie's right. Maybe I'm too attached. I know that I want to help her. I know that if I try, I can help her get past this. I know …"

"What?"

He ran his hands over his face. "I know that a month ago, Ecklie called me into his office and told me that he was splitting up our team. I sat there and took it. I was horrified, I asked why, I knew … I knew that it was wrong. I knew that he was taking a perfectly good team – no, an _excellent_ team – and splitting it up just for spite. But, I didn't fight him. I accepted his decision, and now I have to live with that."

"What could you have done?" Catherine asked quietly.

"I don't know," Grissom said. "But, I do know that staying quiet lost me you, Nick and Warrick. Don't get me wrong; I don't begrudge you the promotion. But, I do wish that I would have fought to keep my team together. And, Catherine, that's not a mistake I'm going to make again. I'm going to keep my team together, no matter what it takes. In this case, I'm going to fight Ecklie to keep Sara. I meant what I said yesterday: I need her. I need everyone on this team."

"So, you're trying to say that you weren't siding _against_ me, you were siding _with_ the team?"

"I guess," he said. "I didn't really see it as taking sides, though. I saw it as doing what was best for Sara and for my team."

Catherine shook her head. "Well, you picked a hell of a time to take a stand."

"Are you still angry?"

"With you? No. I can never stay angry with you for long."

"With Sara?"

She sighed. "I guess it's the same thing, huh? She was just fighting for what she believes in."

"Yes, she was," he said quietly.

Catherine nodded. "I think I may still need some time. But, I'll talk to her when she gets back to work."

"Good."

She looked at him carefully. "Are you still mad at me?" she asked.

Grissom smiled slightly. "We've been friends for a lot of years, Cath. I know that you tend to speak first, think … sometime later."

She laughed. "I know. And, I think you've been yelling at me about that for as long as I've known you."

"Well, maybe you'll take my advice this time."

"I really, really am sorry," she said. "I don't even know where that came from. It just sort of slipped out. You have to know that I didn't really mean it." She shook her head. "It really hurt to see you defending Sara over me, and I … I guess I just wanted to make you hurt, too."

"Well, you succeeded there."

"Oh, Gil, I …"

He shook his head and held up his hand. "You're forgiven. Am I?"

"You were forgiven before you even left the room yesterday."

He smiled slightly. "Good. We're okay, then?"

"Always."


	13. First Date

A/N: This has actually been done for a couple of days, but I wanted to wait until now to post it. After all the promos for 807, I was afraid that we might need something fluffy at this point. I won't say anything else for the sake of those who aren't in my time zone, but if you've seen the episode and want to discuss, please PM me!

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!

I don't own CSI, The Muppets or Muppet Babies.

* * *

_First Date_

"Hello?"

"Mar, you're not going to believe what's happened!"

Mary laughed. "Try me."

"Grissom asked me out for dinner!"

"What?" Mary shrieked.

Sara laughed. "I told you you wouldn't believe it."

"What happened? Tell me everything!"

"Well … we have to start with yesterday."

"Okay."

Sara drew a deep breath. "Grissom had me go work with Catherine on swing shift because they were shorthanded. So, we were working this case, and I … I sort of lost my temper and blew up at Catherine in the hallway."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Well, it got worse – Ecklie was standing there and heard the whole thing. So … long story short, I sort of blew up at him, too, and wound up suspended for a week."

"Sara!"

"I know," Sara moaned. "It was really stupid. So, anyway, Grissom came over and told me that Ecklie wanted him to fire me. But, we talked for awhile, and he decided not to fire me. He came back to visit me today – with breakfast in hand – and asked me to go to dinner with him tonight!"

"Okay, I'm not exactly sure how we got from you being suspended and nearly fired to Grissom bringing you breakfast," Mary said, clearly confused.

Sara sighed and bit her lip. Mary was her best friend and had been for years, but she didn't know the story of Sara's family. Despite her openness with Grissom the day before, Sara was not ready to share her past with anyone else just yet.

"Sara?"

"We had a really long, really good talk," Sara said at last. "I think … I think that we just sort of understood each other better by the end of it. He said he'd come back to see me later, which in his mind meant after work, so he showed up at seven in the morning with breakfast."

Mary laughed. "I'd ask if you were even out of bed, but this is _you_. I'm sure you had already run ten miles or something."

"Not so much," Sara smiled. "I would have been asleep when he got here if it weren't for Nick. He called to tell me how our case ended, which woke me up."

"Good thing," Mary commented.

"Yeah, definitely."

"So, then Grissom asked you to go to dinner with him?"

"Yes. He's going to pick me up at seven."

Mary laughed. "Look out – you only have about eight hours to get ready!"

"I know," Sara groaned. "I don't know how I'm going to make it that long. _And_, I have no idea what to wear!"

"Did he say where he's taking you?"

"No."

"Well, that's helpful," Mary said sarcastically.

"Mary! Help me out here!" Sara laughed. "You know that you're my fashion guru."

"Okay, fine," Mary sighed. "Go for the LBD."

"A little black dress? Are you sure?"

"When have I ever steered you wrong?"

"I know, I know. But … what if he doesn't take me to a fancy restaurant?"

"He will," Mary said confidently.

"But …"

"He will, Sara," Mary said. "Wear that one with the capped sleeves that hits right above your knees."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! And wear those cute strappy heels you have. And silver jewelry. And make your hair all curly. Leave it down."

"Okay," Sara said slowly, reaching for a pen.

Mary laughed. "You're writing this down, aren't you?"

Sara made a face. "I hate how well you know me."

"Just call me back if you need help," Mary said. "And, make sure you call me tomorrow morning to tell me how it goes."

"You don't want me to call you tonight?" Sara teased.

"God, no. By the time he picks you up, it'll already be ten here. This little mama goes to bed before that!"

Sara's expression softened. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Impatient, I guess."

Sara laughed. "Don't you still have months to go?"

"Yeah," Mary sighed. "Nearly five, to be more precise."

"How are you ever going to make it?"

"The same way you'll live till tonight without going nuts," Mary said.

Sara smiled. "We'll survive, huh?"

"Definitely. Of course, it'll be easier for me to make it if you're calling with regular updates to tell me how wonderfully your relationship with Grissom is going …"

Sara grinned. "I'll do my best."

"May I make one request before you go on your date tonight?" Mary asked.

"Of course."

"Promise me that you won't talk about work with him."

"What?" Sara exclaimed. "Mar, that's the one _major_ thing that we have in common!"

"I know. But, I also know that you talk about work all the time _at_ work. So, talk about something else while you're away from work."

"Mary …"

"I'm serious, Sara. If you want this to work, you need to find other things to talk about. Your job can only take you so far."

"All right," Sara sighed.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

Grissom could not remember the last time he had been so nervous or so full of energy. After coming home from Catherine's, he collapsed into bed. He managed to sleep for all of about four hours before he was up again, pacing around his townhouse as he searched for a way to spend the remaining time until he had to leave to pick up Sara. His dog followed him around for awhile, then finally settled down on the couch. Once he was stationary, Grissom realized that Hank could provide him with a welcome distraction.

"Hey, boy, wanna take a walk?"

At the magical word "walk," the dog bounded off the couch and toward the door. Laughing at his enthusiasm, Grissom followed and slipped a leash onto his collar.

"Okay, let's go."

They took their usual walk through the neighborhood, then returned home. Grissom was a bit disappointed to see that they had only managed to kill thirty minutes.

"Maybe we should have stayed out longer," he informed the dog. He sat down on the couch; Hank jumped up beside him and rested his chin on Grissom's lap. "You're not a lapdog, you know," Grissom said.

Hank looked up at him and Grissom smiled.

"But, you're a good friend," he said, scratching the dog's head. "I'm going on a date tonight," he informed his companion. "A real date. With a woman. Her name is Sara. We work together. Technically, that means that I shouldn't be going out on a date with her at all, real or otherwise, but what Ecklie doesn't know won't hurt us."

Hank looked at him a bit reproachfully.

Grissom sighed. "I know. This could be bad. Well, we won't think about that right now. This whole date tonight could turn out to be a disaster, in which case we'll never need to worry about Ecklie."

The dog snuffled as though in disbelief. Grissom smiled.

"Yeah, I know. I think that this is going to work out, too. I just wish I knew for sure … I wish there was some way I could predict what would happen with Sara and me the way I can predict what will happen with chemical compounds." He smiled again. "I think that Catherine would say that the uncertainty is what makes it fun." He sighed. "Well, this isn't helping; it's just making me more nervous. I should try to take a nap. Wanna come upstairs with me?"

As Grissom moved to stand up, the dog jumped off the couch. Ever the faithful companion, he followed Grissom upstairs and waited until Grissom climbed into bed. Once his master was situated, Hank jumped up and lay down at the foot of the bed. Grissom smiled at him.

"Good boy," he mumbled before closing his eyes in an attempt to sleep.

* * *

By five o'clock, Sara was at the end of her rope. She decided that it was finally late enough to justify beginning the primping process; she took out her dress and, leaving it hanging on her closet door, got into the shower.

One obscenely long shower later, Sara put on her make-up, then began the delicate process of making sure that her hair curled properly, rather than waving, curling and falling straight, as it would if left to its own devices. It was a painstaking process, but Mary always swore that the end result was worth the effort. Sara could only hope that Grissom agreed with her. Straightening it with a flatiron was so much easier.

* * *

To his great surprise, Grissom actually fell asleep. When he woke up, it was nearly six o'clock.

"Shit!" he yelled, jumping off the bed.

His sudden movement scared Hank awake; he, too, jumped off the bed and ran out of the room.

"Some guard dog you are!" Grissom yelled after him. "One sudden move and you're off like a shot!"

Hank didn't return, and Grissom didn't have time to search the house for him. He rushed into the bathroom to take the quickest shower of his life.

* * *

Despite how early she started getting ready, it was nearly seven before Sara pulled on her dress and began searching through her jewelry, looking for the perfect silver accents.

"Grissom, for once in your life, please be late," she muttered, shoving earrings aside as she looked for the match to the silver hoop in her hand.

* * *

Grissom glanced at the clock on his dashboard as he sped down the streets between his house and Sara's. Provided that no eager cops were in the area, he thought that he could make it on time.

* * *

Sara finally managed to find both of her earrings, along with a necklace and bracelet. She was just clasping her necklace when she heard a knock at her door. She glanced at the clock as she hurried through the apartment.

"Right on time," she smiled, shaking her head slightly.

She threw the door open to find Grissom smiling at her. He looked quite dashing. He was wearing charcoal gray dress pants, a blue button-down shirt with a darker blue tie, and a navy blue blazer. He held a single yellow rose in his hand.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hello," he replied, his eyes going up and down her body, taking in the curly hair, the black dress that hugged her curves, the silver jewelry and the heeled shoes that made her long legs seem even longer. "You look beautiful," he smiled. He offered her the rose.

"Thanks," she smiled, accepting the flower and stepping back to let him in the apartment. "You look great, too."

"Thank you," he said.

"I'll just put this in water, and we can go," she said.

"All right," Grissom agreed.

"Make yourself at home," Sara said as she walked into the kitchen and pulled a vase from a cupboard.

Grissom walked into her living room, pausing to study the books on her bookshelves. He hadn't really had time to look around during his previous visits to Sara's apartment; he was rather pleased to be able to do so now. As he continued his self-guided tour of her living room, he noticed the plant sitting on a low table by a window.

"You still have it," he said in wonder.

"What?" Sara asked, coming up behind him to pick up her purse from the couch.

"The gerber daisy. I sent that ages ago."

"Years, actually," she said, flushing slightly. "I … um … I've taken good care of it."

"I'd say," Grissom agreed. He smiled. "I'm glad you like it."

"I do," Sara said a bit shyly. "It was very sweet of you to send it."

Grissom felt himself flushing slightly and cleared his throat. "Well. Shall we?"

Sara nodded. "Sure."

Grissom let her walk ahead of him until she reached the door; he reached around her to open it for her. Sara looked at him with a bit of surprise and smiled.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Once they were both outside and Sara had locked the door, they walked to Grissom's car. Again, he opened her door and held it while she climbed in; he paused to close it behind her. Hoping to past the average guy's "good date" test, Sara leaned across to unlock the driver's side door for him. Grissom looked a bit surprised as he opened the door.

"Thank you," he said as he sat down.

"You're welcome," Sara replied. She looked around the car. "I must say, I'm impressed. I didn't know you drove a vintage Mercedes."

Grissom smiled. "My one extravagance," he said. "Warrick helped me buy it. He was very impressed at the time, too."

"You didn't ask Greg for help?" Sara asked with raised eyebrows. "He loves cars."

"I was afraid he'd get _too_ excited," Grissom replied.

Sara laughed. "Yeah, he probably would."

They talked about the car as they drove away from town. When Grissom had finally explained all its features, Sara realized how far they had gone.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked a bit playfully.

"We're going a bit off the beaten path," Grissom said. "I hope you don't mind?"

"No, not at all," Sara said. "I love out of the way restaurants."

"Good. I think you'll really like this one. It's one of my favorites."

"And, there's less chance of being seen?" Sara asked.

"Well … it's not that I don't want to be seen with you, it's just …"

"If Ecklie finds out, we're toast," Sara finished. "I know. I feel the same way."

Grissom looked relieved. "I don't want you to think that I'm ashamed of you."

"I don't think that." She paused. "And, for what it's worth, I don't have a problem being seen with you, either."

Grissom smiled. "Good."

They finally reached the restaurant. Grissom parked the car, and Sara moved to open her door.

"Wait!" Grissom exclaimed.

Sara looked at him in confusion as he launched himself out of the car. Understanding dawned a moment later when he reappeared at her side and opened her door for her. She smiled at him as she stood up.

"Thanks."

He smiled back and put his hand on the small of her back to lead her into the restaurant.

The restaurant was, in Sara's opinion, quaint. It was fancy – she was glad that Mary had insisted on the dress – but it had a sweet quality to it that the fancy restaurants on the Strip couldn't hope to attain. Sara saw in a minute why Grissom loved this restaurant so much. She was sure that she would learn to love it, too.

They only had to wait for a few minutes before they were seated. Silence fell for a moment as they studied their menus. Sara made up her mind quickly, and glanced up at Grissom. He was watching her with a faint smile on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"You really are beautiful," he said. "I feel like the luckiest man in the room to be here with you."

Sara could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as they turned bright red. "Thank you," she said. "You look great, too. I love the way the blue brings out your eyes."

He smiled slightly. "Lindsey picked this out for me."

Shock and panic crossed Sara's face. "Lindsey knows we're here?" If Lindsey knew, that meant that Catherine knew, and if Catherine knew …

"Oh, no," Grissom said quickly, fully understanding the horror in her eyes. "I had to go to a conference last year. Before I left, Catherine took me shopping – she said that she wanted to make sure that I was representing the department properly. Her babysitter cancelled at the last minute, so Lindsey came along. She was the one who insisted that I should go for all blue."

Sara smiled. "Well, she made a good choice."

"I'll let her know the next time I see her."

"Do you see her often?"

"Fairly. Not as much as either of us would like, I'm sure."

"I'll never forget the first time I saw you with her," Sara smiled. "You were wonderful with her. I … I was really impressed." _I realized then what a great father you'd be_. She didn't dare to add that, fearing that it would scare him away – or, at the very least, freak him out.

"She's a special little girl."

The waiter came to take their orders, interrupting their conversation. Once he was gone, Grissom smiled at Sara again.

"Go ahead, ask. I know you're dying to."

Sara shook her head. "I promised Mary that I wouldn't talk about work tonight. So, even though I would love to know how things are going at the lab, I won't ask."

"Well, then, you're going to have to find us something else to talk about," Grissom teased.

"I'm sure there's _something_," Sara teased. "There's plenty I don't know about you. Tell me something."

"Something?"

"Something that I don't know about you," she clarified.

Grissom looked thoughtful for a moment. "I loved to swim when I was little," he said.

"Really?"

He nodded. "I practically grew up on the beach, so my parents thought it was important for me to know how to swim. I can't remember a time when I wasn't taking lessons."

"Were you on the swim team in high school?"

"Yes."

"I'll bet you broke all the school records."

"No," he smiled, shaking his head. "I did it because it was fun, but I was always more concerned with the academic aspect of school. So, I did well enough on the swim team, but all my awards came from my academics."

"That makes sense." She smiled. "I was a geek, too."

"I thought the point of this conversation was to share something I _don't_ already know about you," Grissom teased.

Sara laughed. "Okay. Let me think." She paused, then smiled. "I love The Muppets."

"Really?" Grissom smiled.

"Really," Sara replied.

Their conversation was interrupted as the waiter reappeared with their meal. Once they had been served and began to eat, Grissom returned to her comment.

"Tell me more about your love for the Muppets."

Sara smiled. "I always used to watch the show when I was little. I thought it was hysterical. I've been a fan ever since. When I was in high school, I would get up early on Saturdays just to watch the _Muppet Babies_ cartoon."

"Who is your favorite character?"

"Kermit," Sara replied without hesitation.

"Of course," Grissom smiled. "Who doesn't love Kermit?"

"You like the Muppets, too?"

"I've been known to watch them."

Sara grinned. "We'll have to watch them together sometime."

"Right after _Will and Grace_, right?"

"I did promise to introduce you to them, didn't I?" Sara asked. "We need to do that sometime."

"We will," Grissom promised. "We'll make time."

Sara grinned. "I can't wait."

* * *

They took their time with dinner, slowly enjoying their meals and one another. They ordered dessert, lingering over the sweet ending to the evening. It was obvious that neither of them wanted their first date to end.

But, they finally admitted that they could not possibly make a meal last more than three hours, and left the restaurant. Grissom paid for everything, refusing to even allow Sara to leave a tip.

"I could never let you pay for this," he said as she reached for her wallet.

"I _do_ get paid, Griss," she smiled. "I'm sure I could afford it."

"It's not that," he said. "Sara, this is our first date. How could I possibly ask you to pay?"

She gave him a shy smile. "Does that mean that I can pay for our second date?"

"Perhaps," he said with a mysterious smile.

They continued to chat during the ride back to Sara's apartment. As they talked, Sara realized how much she had been missing out on during the past five years of working with Grissom. They had been coworkers and even friends, but, during that evening together, she discovered that she had never truly _known_ him. Now, she wanted nothing more than to get to know him better.

They reached her apartment complex. Grissom parked the car, and after opening Sara's door for her, walked her to her apartment. He took her hand as they reached her door.

"I had a great time tonight," he said quietly. "I knew we'd have fun, but this … it's been amazing."

She smiled shyly. "It's been … magical," she agreed.

Grissom looked at her, his eyes capturing hers. He held her gaze as he slowly leaned closer to her and put his hand on her cheek.

"Sara, may I kiss you good night?" he asked in a low, almost husky voice.

Sara felt a tight knot form in her throat. Not trusting her voice to work, she nodded.

Grissom slid his hand from her cheek to her hair as his lips touched hers. Sara reached forward, her hands finding his arms. When Grissom pulled back, she felt a bit dazed. Such a chaste kiss had never had such an effect on her before.

"Do you want to come in?" Sara asked a bit breathlessly.

"I do," Grissom said. "I really do, Sara, but I don't think that I should."

Sara's face fell slightly. "Oh. Okay."

"Hey," Grissom said, touching her cheek, "it's not … look, I had a great time tonight. Really great. And, I would love nothing more than to stay with you right now, but … I just think that we should take this slowly. One date at a time. Okay?"

Sara smiled and nodded. The promise of future dates was enough for her. "Okay."

Grissom returned her smile. "But … I suppose that one more kiss wouldn't hurt."

Sara grinned as he kissed her again.


	14. Undefined

A/N: I think I might even like this chapter better than the last one. Let the fluffiness continue!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI or ER.

* * *

_Undefined_

Sara practically danced into her apartment. She had never felt so completely happy – or, at least, she couldn't remember a time of happiness that rivaled this. She had just spent a magical evening with Grissom – and evening that had ended with the sweetest kiss she could imagine.

Holding her arms out away from her body, she spun around in a circle, collapsing onto the couch. She giggled as she picked up a pillow, squeezing it against her in a tight hug.

"Oh, God, Mary, I wish you lived in my time zone," she moaned, looking at the clock. "It's three in the morning where you are! How will I wait until tomorrow to call you?"

She buried her face in her pillow for a moment, reliving the moment when Grissom had kissed her. He had been so sweet about it, so tentative, so gentle, so … loving.

She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly. No, she couldn't start thinking like that. Not yet. She wouldn't presume anything.

Sara made plenty of mistakes, but she did her best not to repeat them. Her relationship with Hank, no matter how ill-advised, had taught her never to assume.

She would take their date for what it was: a date. An illegal date, considering the fact that they worked on the same team, but a date all the same. A wonderful, perfect date, but, still, just a date.

At least, until they decided that it was something more.

* * *

Grissom still felt tingly and slightly dizzy as he walked into his townhouse. He couldn't believe all that had happened in the past few hours. The dog, used to his master coming home at unpredictable hours, awoke as soon as he heard Grissom come in; he charged down the stairs to meet him at the door.

Grissom grinned at him. "You won't believe what happened," he informed his four-legged companion, leaning down to greet him with the expected pat on the head. "I took Sara out for dinner, and we had a great time. She's … so special."

Hank dropped to the floor, rolling over in an invitation for Grissom to rub his belly. Still grinning, Grissom knelt down beside him to oblige.

"I kissed her, Hank," he said quietly. "I _kissed_ her. _I kissed Sara Sidle_." His grin widened. "You know, it was all very innocent, but it was the best kiss I've ever had in my life. I wonder … I hope …" He trailed off, letting the cold dread of a potential rejection flood through him. "I hope it meant as much to her as it did to me," he finished in a whisper.

He stopped petting the dog, who rolled over and looked up at him with big, brown eyes. Grissom looked at him for a moment, then shook his head.

"It must have meant something to her," he said firmly. "She invited me in, you know. Girls don't do that if they don't … if you don't … Well, it's a good indication that she had a good time."

Flushing slightly, he stood up. "Stop being so nosy," he said to the dog. "I've told you all you're going to hear."

With that, he climbed the stairs to get ready for bed.

* * *

Not surprisingly, Sara was up early the next morning. Never a good sleeper under the best of circumstances, her residual excitement from the night before awoke her only four hours after she had finally managed to fall asleep.

Knowing that she was far too keyed up to stay in the house, she decided to go for a run. Four miles later, she jumped into the shower.

By the time her morning routine was complete, it was eleven o'clock on the east coast, which meant that she felt safe to call Mary. The phone only rang once before her friend picked up; apparently, Mary had been awaiting her call.

"I thought you'd never call!" Mary exclaimed by way of greeting.

Sara laughed. "I didn't want to wake you up."

"Don't be silly," Mary said. "You should have known that I'd be up early, waiting to hear from you. So, how was it?"

"Fantastic," Sara sighed.

"All you'd dreamed?" Mary giggled.

"And more," Sara affirmed.

"Okay, let's hear some details!"

"Well, he got here right on time," Sara began. "He brought me a flower – a yellow rose."

Mary's sigh of romantic contentment was enough to spur Sara into a play-by-play recreation of her date. Always a captive audience, Mary made all the appropriate comments and asked all the right questions. By the end of her story, Sara was grinning from ear to ear, every bit as happy as she had been the night before.

"So, he walked me to my door," she said as she reached the end of her tale. "He held my hand and asked if he could kiss me."

"Oh, Sara," Mary sighed. "That's so sweet."

"I know," Sara agreed. "So, we kissed a bit, and I asked him if he wanted to come in. He said no."

"I know you're going to hate me for this, but I'm glad," Mary said. "I think he has a lot of respect for you."

"I know," Sara said. "He said that we didn't need to rush things … I think he said we should take it one date at a time."

"Sara! He absolutely wants to take you out again!"

"I know!" Sara cried. "Oh, God, Mary, I'm just so happy … I didn't know anyone could possibly be this happy."

"I'm happy for you," Mary said. "This is going to work out for you and Grissom, Sara. I just know it."

"I really hope you're right."

"I am," she said confidently. "So," she continued mischievously, "does this mean I'll _finally_ get to meet the elusive Dr. Grissom?"

Sara laughed. "Don't you remember what I told you before?"

"That I could meet him when you're engaged to him?"

"Yup. It still stands."

Mary laughed. "I'll just have to work on breaking you down on that one."

"I'm taking this slowly, Mar," Sara said. "I'm not going to make assumptions about our relationship or to jump into something that I'm not – or _he's_ not – ready for. I want to do this right."

"You will," Mary said. "And, this will all work out, and one day, I'll be your matron of honor."

"And I'll get to make you wear a hideous pink dress!" Sara laughed.

"Yeah. Hey … wait a minute! I thought you liked that dress!"

Sara laughed. "I can like anything for one day. They're your pictures, love, not mine."

"Well, that was the last time I'll ask for you honest opinion about a bridesmaid's dress."

"Good. I hope that was the last time you were planning to get married."

"It was," Mary smiled. "We'll focus on your wedding now."

"Mary …"

She laughed. "Okay. We'll focus on your next date, then."

"Yeah," Sara grinned. "I'll keep you posted on that one."

* * *

Grissom managed to get far more sleep than Sara did; but, he also stayed up much later than she did. Not working his way through a weeklong suspension, Grissom stayed on his normal sleep schedule. When he finally woke up in the evening, his first thought was of how much he wanted to talk to Sara.

He distracted himself with his normal "morning" routine for awhile, but, eventually, he found himself sitting on the couch with his cell phone clutched in this hand. He wanted to call her, but he was afraid it was too soon. Hank sat down at his feet and looked up at him.

Grissom looked from the phone in his hand to the dog curled up at his feet. "You're supposed to wait two days before calling," he said. "That's what they say." He glanced at his watch. "It's only been twenty-one hours since I left her apartment. Do you think that's too soon to call?"

The dog looked at him for a moment, then put his head down.

"I don't know, either. All I know is that I want to talk to her."

He hesitated a moment longer, then pressed the speed dial button to call Sara, followed by the talk button.

"Forget the rules. If I want to talk to her, maybe she wants to talk to me, too."

Apparently, she did. Sara picked up on the second ring.

"Hello," she said cheerfully.

"Hi, Sara," he said, hoping that he didn't sound as nervous as he felt.

He swallowed, trying to banish his nerves. He had talked to her on the phone hundreds – maybe even _thousands_ – of times in the past. This was no time to be nervous.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Great," she replied. "You?"

"Fine," he said. He took a deep breath. "Sara … I had a really nice time last night. A great time, in fact."

"Me, too," she grinned.

"You did?"

She laughed. "Griss, I invited you in. I don't do that for just anyone."

Horror filled him. He hadn't meant to imply … He began to stammer in his attempt at backpedaling. "I didn't think … that's not what I …"

Sara laughed again. "Calm down, Grissom. I wasn't accusing you of thinking that I'm a slut."

Grissom made a face. "Don't use that word while you're talking about yourself, Sara. Ever."

"Okay, I won't," she said, touched by the conviction in his voice. Mary was right. He did have a lot of respect for her.

"So, what are you up to?" he asked.

"I'm watching tv," she replied. "I'm killing time until _ER_ starts. I guess that's one good thing about this suspension – I get to watch it when it's actually on, rather than recording it."

"You like _ER_?" Grissom grinned.

"I've watched it ever since it started," she said. "I almost gave it up when Mark Greene died, but I couldn't stay away." She paused. "Do you watch it?"

He laughed. "I gave it up when Mark Greene died."

She laughed with him, then looked at the clock. "I'm not keeping you from work, am I?"

"No, I still have a few minutes before I have to leave."

"You are on tonight, then?"

"I am," he nodded. Sudden inspiration struck him. "Would you go out for breakfast with me tomorrow?"

"After shift?"

"Yeah." His nerves, which had relaxed away during their conversation, returned in full force. "I mean … if you'd like."

"I'd like," she grinned. "Where do you want me to meet you?"

"I'll pick you up," he replied. "Shall we plan for me to be at your place at nine? I can call if I get delayed."

"That would be great," she smiled.

"Excellent," he said cheerfully. "I guess … I'll let you go, then."

"All right," she said. "I'll see you at nine."

"I'll be there."

They hung up their respective phones, both grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

Sleep was elusive for Sara yet again. It wasn't a surprise, really. How could she possibly be expected to sleep when she was so excited? The idea that Grissom had enjoyed their first date as much as she had was intoxicating. The fact that he wanted to take her out again left her giddy.

She rolled over in bed for the tenth time, her beaming smile still firmly in place.

She could hardly wait for morning.

* * *

Grissom had never seen a shift move so slowly in his life.

The lack of new cases certainly contributed to it. Only one case came in; he sent Greg and Sofia to the scene. He knew that they were bored and wanted out of the lab. Thrilled to have a reason to leave, they practically ran to the car. He smiled as he watched them go, and sat down at his desk with a stack of case reviews.

"Bored?"

Grissom looked up to see Catherine standing a bit hesitantly in his office doorway. "Hi," he said cautiously.

She sighed and walked into the office, dropping down into the chair across from his. "How are you?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied. "You?"

"This is what I was afraid of," she said rather than answering his question.

"I'm not following," Grissom frowned.

"We've become formal with one another!" she exclaimed. "Gil! We've been friends for years! We know each other's secrets! We've been drunk at each other's houses! Do you remember the night I had to stay over because I couldn't drive home?"

Grissom laughed. "I knew my mother insisted that I needed a guest room for a reason. That night proved her right."

"And this is my point," Catherine said. "We've been friends for too long and been through too much together to lose that now."

"Cath, we're not _going_ to lose that," Grissom said, putting his reading glasses on top of the folders on his desk. "We just … we're fine."

"I know," she sighed. "It's just going to take some time to get back to the way things were, huh?"

"Probably," he shrugged. "I think … we both came to some realizations the other day."

"Yeah," she said quietly, "I guess we did."

"Look," Grissom said, "you're still my favorite supervisor. You're still the first one I'll call to consult about a case. You're still … you're still my best friend, Catherine."

She smiled, her eyes suddenly very bright. "And you're still mine," she almost whispered.

Grissom smiled. "So, then, why exactly are we having this conversation?"

"Probably because I'm paranoid," Catherine sighed.

"Probably," Grissom agreed.

She made a face. "You didn't need to agree with me on that."

"I thought you valued honesty."

Catherine rolled her eyes, but smiled at him. "Okay. I think we're done here."

"Stop," Grissom said as she moved to get up from her chair. "Is there something that you needed? You did just drop in."

"Oh, no, I just came to say hello," she said. "Well, really 'good bye,' I guess. I'm on my way out."

"Oh," Grissom said. "Well, good bye, then."

She smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, Grissom."

Grissom watched as she walked away. Tense as the conversation had been, he was glad that they had had it. Now, hopefully, things could go back to normal.

* * *

After what seemed like years, the graveyard shift finally drew to a close. Grissom wasn't sure who was the most excited about it, but he, Greg and Sofia walked out to their cars together with very cheerful smiles on their faces. Calling "good night" to one another with sarcastic smiles, they climbed into their cars and drove their separate ways.

Grissom didn't know where the other two were going, but his destination was clear.

He was going to pick up Sara.

* * *

She answered the door so quickly that he was sure that she had been waiting for him. She was dressed far more casually than she had been for their dinner. Somehow, he thought that he might like seeing her in jeans and a casual shirt even more than in her sexy black dress. Of course, there was always the thought of what she'd look like in one of _his_ shirts …

He banished the thought as quickly as it came. He couldn't start thinking like that. Not now. Not yet.

"Good morning," he smiled.

"Don't you mean 'good evening?'" she giggled.

"For today, it's good morning," he smiled. "Shall we go have breakfast?"

"Let me grab my purse," Sara said, opening the door wider in an invitation to enter her home.

She found her purse quickly enough and hurried to rejoin him. Grissom smiled at her.

"What?" she asked, coming to a stop next to him.

He shrugged. "You're just so pretty."

Sara laughed. "You're going to make me very vain if you don't stop that."

He grinned and grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "I don't see that happening."

A warm, tingling feeling spread through her at the touch of his hand against hers. Sara situated her hand in his, loving the feeling of _belonging_ that came with the innocent contact.

They were going to have a good morning.

* * *

They did have a good morning. Grissom took her to another of his favorite restaurants, this one just off the Strip. They chatted about everything and anything as they ate, enjoying just being together. At the end of the meal, Sara grabbed the check before Grissom had time to react.

"What are you doing?" he frowned.

"You promised that I could pay for our second date," she said.

"No, I said that _maybe_ you could pay for our second date."

She frowned. "Why don't you want me to be an independent woman of the new millennium?"

"Sara …"

"Grissom …"

He sighed. "Okay, fine. But, I get to pay for the next one."

"Deal."

Grissom shook his head at the triumphant smile on her face. She was merely proving what he had known for years: that she made it very difficult for him to be a gentleman.

* * *

Grissom drove Sara back to her apartment and parked his car. They walked up to her door hand-in-hand, both relishing the feeling. Once they reached the door, Grissom caressed Sara's cheek.

"May I …?"

"God, yes," Sara sighed.

Grissom laughed, then leaned in to kiss her.

Though it started out innocently, this kiss quickly became far more intense than the kisses of the preceding evening. When they finally broke apart, Sara looked at Grissom with a nervous smile.

"Will you come in?"

"Sara, you know what I think about that …"

She shook her head. "That's not what I meant. I think we should talk for a bit."

Grissom frowned slightly, but nodded. Sara unlocked her door, and he followed her inside.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked as they walked into her living room.

"No, I'm fine," Grissom replied.

Sara nodded, and they sat down on the couch together. Grissom took her hand, gently rubbing his thumb over it.

"You wanted to talk about something?"

She nodded. "I … Grissom, I want to know what we're doing."

He frowned. "Right now?"

"No," she sighed. "This. Dating. What is this? Are we just dating? Are we in a relationship?" She shrugged. "I guess I just want to know what this is before we end up back at work together."

A hint of fear crossed his eyes. "Sara, you do know that there are very strict rules about dating at the lab," he said. "Two members of the same team can't date. If Ecklie finds out about this …"

"We're in a world of hurt," she said. "I'm on thin ice as it is, and we're breaking a pretty major rule. I know. We've talked about it already."

"Right. So …"

She sighed. "I … I've wanted this forever, Griss. Ever since we met, I've wanted to go out with you. Now that it's happening, I'm terrified I'll screw it up."

He smiled, and touched her cheek. "Sara, you're worrying too much. Why don't we just take this as it comes? No pressure, okay? We'll just go out like we did last night or like we did this morning. We'll have a relationship, but we don't need to define it as anything. We can just …"

"Be friends with benefits?" she asked miserably.

"_No_," he said forcefully. "No. That's not what I want, and I don't think it's what you want, either."

She shook her head.

"So, let's just say that we're two people who enjoy one another's company and want to get to know one another better," he said. "We'll go out and do just that."

"And not tell Ecklie," Sara smiled.

"No," Grissom agreed. He frowned. "I guess it doesn't really matter if he knows. I mean, if we're not _technically_ boyfriend and girlfriend …"

Sara smiled. "Let's not tempt fate, shall we? I'm clinging to my job by a thread as it is."

"I'll do everything I can to keep you with me at work," Grissom assured her. "Always."

"I know you will," Sara said, smiling softly. "But, still, I don't think we should go out of our way to annoy Ecklie right now."

"Okay," Grissom agreed. "For now, we'll keep this to ourselves."

Sara nodded. "Okay. So, we're in a private, undefined relationship."

"I think that sums it up."

"Um …"

"What?"

"I know that I won't see other people," she said in a rush. "You can do whatever you want, but …"

He shook his head. He had barely seen anyone else at all since meeting her. Why on earth would he start now? "I don't want to see anyone else," he said.

She smiled. She wanted to say "good," but, somehow, it seemed wrong. Instead, she leaned across the slight distance between them to kiss him.

Smiling slightly, Grissom kissed her back.


	15. Jealousy

A/N: Like an idiot, I forgot to include my holiday greetings in the last chapter. So, a belated happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the US!

Ah, yes, and just to keep the continuity going, this chapter picks up literally immediately after the last line of the last chapter. Hopefully, that will help this first scene make some timeline sense.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue have been borrowed from episode 514, "Unbearable." I promise to return them unharmed!

* * *

_Jealousy_

Sara pulled back from their kiss and looked at Grissom carefully. He smiled under her scrutiny.

"What?" he asked.

"You need to go home," she said matter-of-factly.

"Are you kicking me out?" Grissom teased. "I'm only in this apartment because you invited me in."

"I know," Sara said. "But, all I wanted was to establish what exactly this relationship is before I go back to work. I didn't intend to keep you here all day – especially after you worked all night. You must be exhausted."

Grissom sighed. "I'd be lying if I said I'm not tired."

"I thought so," Sara said. She stood up and held out a hand to pull him to his feet. "I'm sending you home while you still have the energy to drive."

Grissom gave her an amused smile.

"What?" she asked.

"I haven't had anyone want to take care of me in … years," he said. "It's … nice."

Sara smiled and flushed slightly. "I just don't want you to have an accident, that's all."

"Thank you," he said. He leaned in to kiss her again. "I'll call you later, okay?"

She nodded. "Drive safely."

"I will."

Grissom touched her cheek once and then walked out of her apartment. He walked slowly to his car, going over everything that had happened in his mind.

So. He and Sara were dating, but she was not yet his girlfriend. That was fine. There was no need to jump into a relationship – particularly one that had the potential to ruin so much of their lives if it went wrong.

But, somehow …

He could only see it going _right_.

And that was even more terrifying than it going wrong.

* * *

Sara waited until she could see Grissom's car drive away before grabbing her cell phone. She called Mary, waiting impatiently during the three rings it took her to pick up.

"Hello?" Mary said.

"Grissom and I are dating," Sara exclaimed.

"Whoa," Mary said. "How did that happen? I thought you had only been out once!"

"Twice," Sara corrected. "He came over and took me out for breakfast this morning."

"Very sweet," Mary said. Sara could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "When we got back here, I asked him to come in to talk. I … I really just wanted to know for sure what we're doing."

"And?"

"And, we decided that we're … wait, how did he put it? Two people who enjoy one another's company and want to get to know one another better, I think."

"So, not really official, then?"

"No-o," Sara said slowly. "I don't think either of us wants that just yet."

"Are you going to see other people?"

"I said that I wouldn't, but that he can do whatever he wants."

"Honestly, Sara," Mary sighed. "Why would you do that?"

"I didn't want him to feel trapped," she said defensively. "Anyway, he said that he doesn't want to see anyone else, either."

"Good," Mary said. "I told you that he has a lot of respect for you."

"You were right," Sara agreed. "I can't believe how sweet he is, Mary. He treats me like a princess."

"You _are_ a princess," Mary said. She giggled. "Didn't we have this conversation once before, years ago?"

"Yeah," Sara sighed, wishing that she had never used that term. "I should probably get going, Mar. I'm sure you have plenty to do."

"I'm never too busy for you."

Sara grinned. "Yeah, tell me that when you have a little baby to take care of."

"Well, as of now, I'm never too busy for you," Mary laughed. "Take care, Sara, and keep me updated."

"Oh, I will. You take care of yourself, too."

"I will. Bye."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone and held it against her lips for a moment. She closed her eyes as she remembered being a little girl, snuggled up with her mother for a bedtime story, being told that she was a princess. She closed her eyes tighter as she remembered visiting her mother in a mental institution.

Sara opened her eyes and shook her head. The past was in the past, and there was no need to go over it again. True, she had thought of her mother more in the past few weeks than she had in the past few years, but still ….

There was no need to reopen those old wounds. None at all.

* * *

Grissom unlocked the door to his townhouse, holding it open for the dog to enter ahead of him. He removed Hank's leash, letting him run into the house; Hank ran straight to his food dishes.

Grissom laughed at him. "That's right. I take you out for exercise, and you immediately try to put the weight back on."

Grissom followed at a slower pace, putting the leash away before making his way into the kitchen for a glass of water. He took his water into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. He closed his eyes, letting all that had happened in the past few days wash over him.

He couldn't believe how much he loved spending time with Sara. He had always liked being with her – he smiled as he thought of all the time they had spent together during their first meeting all those years ago – but, this new relationship had heightened the sensation. He meant what he had said to her – he enjoyed her company and wanted to get to know her better. What scared him was how strongly he felt those two things.

This was such a monumental change for him. He could barely remember the last time he had wanted to be with a woman like he did with her. He was glad that she was willing to take things slowly. He didn't think his system could stand the shock of moving from coworkers to friends to significant others within the space of a few weeks.

What scared him the most was how willing he was to change for her. He wanted to become the man who would be there for her. He wanted to become the man who would listen to her fears, who would pick her up when she fell, who would laugh with her when she was happy. In short, he wanted to be her boyfriend.

He opened his eyes, smiling slightly. He knew that he was _willing_ to make that change. He just hoped that he was _ready_.

* * *

The rest of the week flew past. Sara and Grissom did not see each other again, but they talked nearly every day. He started to call her when he got off work, chatting with her while he drove home. Even though it never seemed to work out for them to get together, they both were pleased with their limited contact.

At the end of the week, Sara felt refreshed and eager to get back to work. She walked into the lab cheerfully and was immediately greeted by Nick, who was walking through the reception area as she came in.

"Sara!" he exclaimed, hugging her tightly. "I've missed you."

She laughed. "I've missed you, too. What are you up to today?"

"Warrick and I are on our way out to deal with a man found dead in a state park. Ranger said he was a hunter. I'm thinking this could be an easy one."

"Well, you know what happens when you assume," Sara teased.

"Yeah, I know." He paused, concern shadowing his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly. "After everything that's happened with Catherine and Ecklie …"

Sara smiled. "I'm fine," she said firmly. "I think the week off is probably what I needed to get my head on straight."

"Well, good," Nick said. He glanced at his watch. "I've got to get out of here or Warrick will think I got lost on my way to the car. Don't let Grissom work you too hard, all right? It _is_ your first night back."

"I'll be careful," she laughed, waving to him as he walked away.

She made it to the locker room without running into anyone else. Greg was already at his locker when she walked in.

"Hey," she greeted him cheerfully.

"You're back!" he exclaimed, turning from his locker to hug her. "How's everything?"

"Fine."

"Yeah?" he asked, looking at her closely.

"Yeah," she replied. "I think –"

"Hello, everyone."

Sara and Greg both looked up to see Sofia walking in. She gave them a smile as she opened her locker.

"Hi, Sofia," Greg said cheerfully.

"Hi," Sara said, her tone a bit colder.

Greg frowned at her, and Sara shrugged back at him. Even after all that had happened in the past week, she couldn't get past the way she had seen Sofia hitting on Grissom.

"I have assignments."

All three CSIs looked up to see Grissom in the locker room doorway.

"You're eager," Sara commented. "Can't we put our things away first?"

"Busy night," he replied. "We've got a missing person, and they've just found her car. Sofia, I want you to get over there right now to check that out. Brass is waiting for you. I'll be there as soon as I can. Greg, wait here until they bring the evidence back, then you can start processing right away. Sara, you need to come with me to fill out some paperwork, then, once Brass gets back, you're going with him to talk to the family."

"All right," the three of them said in unison.

"Good," Grissom nodded. He gave Sofia the address of where to find the victim's car, then motioned for Sara to follow him to his office.

"See you," Sara said to Greg and Sofia.

"Bye," they said as one. They looked at each other and grinned, while Sara rolled her eyes at them.

"What do you need me to sign?" Sara asked Grissom as she followed him to his office.

"Notice that your suspension has ended," he replied.

"I think I can do that."

"Good," he said, sliding a form across to her. "Oh, and this one, too – it's just documentation that we've had a conference about what happened."

Sara nodded, flushing slightly.

"Hey," Grissom said quietly, noticing her reaction, "it's okay. Everything's going to be fine."

She gave him a slight smile. "I know."

He nodded. "Look, I know you're a little out of practice, so if anything is too much for you tonight, just let me know."

She shook her head. "I'm ready to get back into action."

"Good," he said again, smiling. "I'll let Brass know that you're ready for him."

"Thanks."

Grissom walked out of his office, leaving Sara staring after him. She sighed and turned to follow him.

He was right. It was going to be a busy night.

* * *

Grissom hated himself for doing it, yet he did it every time. And, every time, he told himself that he wouldn't do it the next time.

Each time they had a missing person, he held out hope of finding him or her alive.

So many times – _too_ many times – he was disappointed.

They found the body of Lori Kyman in a desolate area, under a tree. As he helped Sofia process the body, Grissom could only think of how lucky he was not to be Brass. He did not envy the other man's job of telling this young woman's husband and baby that she had died. Their pain would be unimaginable.

The least he and his team could do was to tell them why.

Yet, so far, they had not been able to do that. Greg had found a slow leak that had obviously been intentionally set in the tire and Sara had discovered the identity of the man who had hit on Lori at the club she and her friend had visited, but it wasn't all that much to go on. They were all waiting for a clue to jump off the body, but all he and Sofia had managed to find thus far were blue and red fibers, and debris from the tree under which she had been dumped.

His eyes lit up as he found a hair on Lori's dress. Now, they were getting somewhere. "A brown hair with a follicular tag," he told Sofia as he pulled it off the dress. "A person's entire identity balled up in a few nanograms of matter."

Sofia straightened up from her job of taking samples of the white powder on the woman's hands. "Assuming one's identity can be wholly quantified by our DNA," she replied.

"Well, genetically, it can," Grissom said. "We're completely programmed as soon as the sperm hits the egg."

"So, we're _defined_ at a cellular level?"

"More or less."

"No," she said firmly. "Identity is the totality of our life experiences. How our brain neurons process our relationship to the world and each other."

"I stand corrected," Grissom said easily. "DNA is _what_ we are, not _who_ we are."

"_What_ we are never changes," Sofia said. "_Who_ we are never stops changing."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed, "whether we like it or not."

Sofia raised an eyebrow. "Too many changes happening at once, Dr. Grissom?"

He smiled. "More like changes that I never anticipated."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I've seen a few of those recently myself."

Grissom looked at her with concern. "Sofia, are you …?"

"Hey, Griss, this Brad character admits to loosening the screw to cause a slow leak in Lori's tire," Greg said as he came into the room, effectively ending the conversation between Grissom and Sofia.

"Great," Grissom said. "We can start there and nail him for this."

"Not exactly," Greg said. "He swears that he followed her for twenty minutes, hoping to 'rescue' her from her flat tire, but the tire never went flat. He said that he gave up and went home."

Grissom frowned. "Okay. You finish up here with Sofia, and I'll take care of it." He gathered up the evidence they had already collected. "I'll get this to DNA and Trace while I'm at it." He gave them a smile as he left the room.

Greg took Grissom's recently-vacated spot and looked at Sofia. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said with a slight frown. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Greg shrugged. "You look a little put out."

She sighed. "Greg, just process."

"Okay," he agreed, getting to work. He knew better than to bother Sofia when she was irritated about something. He would keep his mouth shut.

* * *

"Hey, be careful!"

Sara looked up just in time to avoid running into Grissom. "Hi," she smiled. "Sorry about that. I just got the prints from the steering wheel of Lori's car to Mandy. We'll see what she comes up with."

"About that car …"

"Yes?"

"How about taking it for a drive?"

Sara's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"I need you to disprove the suspect's statement. He told Greg that he followed Lori for twenty minutes waiting for her tire to go flat, but that he gave up when it didn't. It was flat when we found the car, so …"

"So, you want me to run the tire to see how long it takes to go flat."

He gave her a sweet smile. "If you wouldn't mind."

"Anything for you," Sara replied with a smile of her own. She left Grissom and headed for the locker room to change into her coveralls. It was time to get dirty.

* * *

Sara's little project did nothing but prove that Brad had been telling the truth. They were left with the evidence that Grissom and Sofia had gathered from the body, which led them to the conclusion that Lori had spent some time rolling around in the trunk of a Bentley that had red interior. The news that Lori's best friend – the last one to see her alive – had a Bentley brought her car to the lab. Sara and Greg were assigned the job of processing it.

Sara beat Greg to the garage. Knowing that he'd probably want her to wait, but not really caring, she popped the trunk of the car. She shone her flashlight on the black interior and sighed.

"You started without me?" Greg asked in disbelief as he entered the garage.

"Actually, I finished without you," Sara said. "Take a look."

"Carpet's black," Greg said, stating the obvious. "The fibers on the vic's clothing were red."

"Obviously, we can rule out this car," Sara stated.

Greg looked at her for a minute. "I don't mean to pry, but … wanna to talk about what happened with you and Ecklie?"

"Not really," Sara replied, maintaining eye contact. She did sort of want to talk about it, but she wasn't sure she wanted to do so with Greg.

"I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm a good listener," Greg almost whispered, smiling at her.

Sara fought back a smile of her own. He really did want to help her, and that in itself meant the world to her. She decided to give him something – something small, but enough to prove that she trusted him and believed in the strength of their friendship. "I blew up at Ecklie," she said. "It was very unprofessional, and … very satisfying. And, now we're moving on."

Greg nodded and smiled.

"Thanks for asking," she said quietly, knowing that Greg had no idea how much his innocent inquiry meant to her.

* * *

Sara drummed her fingers against the desk as she waited for her DMV search to provide her with results. All she wanted was a list of Bentley's with red interior in the area. Why should that take forever?

She stilled her fingers, knowing that the desk and the computer were not the ones she was angry with. She was angry with Sofia for flirting with Grissom … _again_.

Sara could still see them sitting at the table in the break room together. She could still hear Sofia's laughter. She could still see the way Sofia had angled her chair and her body toward his. She could still feel her own anger coursing through her veins.

"He promised that he wouldn't see other people," she whispered.

_But, you told him that it's okay if he does_, her mind answered.

Sara screwed up her face into a scowl. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

Her search finally provided her with results. Now, she just had to check up on these cars.

* * *

Two hours later, Sara, Greg and Sofia made their way into the garage yet again, this time to process the Bentley that Lori's mother had rented only two days previously. An expression of pure ecstasy crossed Greg's face as he looked at the car.

"If you added up every cent I've made in my entire life, I still wouldn't be able to afford half of this car," he sighed.

"Yeah, but why would you want it?" Sara asked. "The insurance premiums are sky-high, not to mention theft, scratches …"

"It's art," Greg said. "And, I'd have every girl in the neighborhood after me."

"Not when they saw your apartment," Sofia grinned.

"You've been to Greg's apartment?" Sara asked.

"Who hasn't?" Sofia laughed.

Sara looked at her and grinned. If it weren't for the fact that she was after Grissom, Sara was sure that she would have liked Sofia very much. With Catherine working swing, Sara missed having a girlfriend on her shift. She adored Greg and Grissom, but it just wasn't the same.

It was such a shame that Sofia had to flirt with Grissom. It was ruining would could have been a beautiful friendship.

* * *

In the end, they discovered that Lori's stepmother – who presented herself as Lori's mother – had killed her in an effort to get her hands on the money Lori's father had left to his grandson. The woman was rather cold, all things considered.

By the time they wrapped the case, it was evening. Knowing that she didn't have much time before her next shift started, Sara decided to ask Grissom to go out for dinner with her. They could hit a diner nearby, then go home for a few hours of sleep before they had to be back at work. Hoping that she'd be able to find him to ask him, she headed for the most obvious place first.

* * *

Grissom stood in his office, taking notes on one of his experiments. He was completely absorbed in his work; he didn't even notice that he was no longer alone until he heard Sofia's voice behind him.

"You got a minute?"

"Sure," he said, turning to acknowledge her before returning his eyes to his jars. "You did a nice job on the case."

Sofia walked into his office to stand closer to him. "I … uh … I just wanted you to know that I've enjoyed working with you."

Grissom turned to look at her again. "Well, I've enjoyed working with you, as well."

Sofia gave him a slight smile, realizing that he had misunderstood her. "No, it's time I made a change," she explained. "I don't like the direction the lab is headed."

Grissom took off his reading glasses so that he could see her face clearly. "You mean Ecklie?" he asked in disbelief. "You can't pay any attention to him." She couldn't possibly leave because of that idiot.

"No," Sofia said. "You've got a good time, but … I was a supervisor. My demotion was undeserved, and every day that I'm here, I'm reminded of that."

Grissom nodded slightly, studying her. He thought of what he had said to Catherine about fighting to keep his team together. Sofia was new to his team, but that didn't make her any less a part of it. She and Greg were getting along famously, and he was sure that she and Sara would eventually warm up to one another. He did not want to put this team through another colossal change. He needed to fight to keep her with them.

"What?" she asked.

"Well," he said slowly, "someone once said, _what_ we are never changes, but _who_ we are never stops changing."

Sofia smiled slightly as her words came back to haunt her.

Grissom looked at her for another minute. "Let's have dinner, shall we?" If he couldn't talk her into staying over dinner, it was a lost cause.

Sofia gave him a knowing smile. "All right," she agreed. "Just let me get my purse. I'll meet you in the locker room?"

"Sure," Grissom agreed. "I just have a few things to finish up here."

Sofia gave him a rather sultry smile and left. Grissom frowned slightly. Why would she look at him like that? She didn't still … He thought that between him and Catherine, they had made sure that Sofia understood that their relationship would always be simply professional.

He barely had time to process this turn of events before another voice disrupted his thoughts.

"Hey," Sara said, smiling at him from his doorway.

"Hi," he replied with a smile of his own.

"Do you have everything done for the day?"

"Yes." He put his paperwork away and joined her at the doorway.

Sara's smile widened. "Me, too. Do you want to go out for dinner?"

An odd expression crossed Grissom's face. "Oh, Sara. I'm sorry. I can't."

Sara frowned slightly. "Better plans?" she asked lightly, trying to make a joke of the situation.

"Not better … just already made."

"Oh," she said. "What are you up to?"

"I'm going to dinner with Sofia."

The bottom dropped out of Sara's stomach. "Oh," was all she could manage to say.

"Just as colleagues," Grissom hurried to clarify. "She – she's having a rough time of it right now, and I want to talk to her."

"Right," Sara said, trying to rein in her emotions. She wouldn't let herself be jealous. She couldn't. She and Grissom had agreed that they weren't in a serious relationship. They weren't defined as … anything, really. He could go out with Sofia if he wanted to – as colleagues, as friends, as … whatever. And, Sara would just have to deal with it.

"You don't … mind … do you?" Grissom asked tentatively.

Sara gave him a falsely bright smile. "Why would I mind?"

Grissom sighed. "I'll call you after dinner. I promise." He touched her cheek as he walked past her. "We'll talk soon."

Sara watched him walk out of his office and sighed. "Right," she said again. "We'll talk soon."

Never mind what she didn't want to let herself feel. There was no denying it. She was jealous.

At least, that was the only logical explanation she could find for her sudden desire to rip Sofia's hair out one blond strand at a time.


	16. Damage Control

A/N: A little drama, a little fluff … I think it's a great combination. I hope you agree!

Litbuff, this one is dedicated to you. I hope you find it to be "bearable!" ;-)

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Damage Control_

Sofia entered the locker room to find Greg changing his shoes. She gave him a cheerful smile as she took her purse from her locker.

"Headed home?" she asked.

"Yeah. You?"

She shook her head with a slight smile. "I have plans."

"Well, good for you," Greg grinned. "I wish I could say the same."

Sofia smiled again as she closed her locker. "Good night, Greg. I'll see you later."

"Good night," Greg replied.

Grissom appeared in the doorway. "Ready?" he asked.

Greg frowned. "What?"

"Yes," Sofia said, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

Grissom smiled at her. "Would you like to ride with me?"

"Sure," she smiled.

Grissom nodded, and they walked out together, leaving Greg staring after them with his mouth open. Grissom and Sofia … Sofia and Grissom … _leaving together_? Riding somewhere together? Somewhere that wasn't a crime scene?

He was still frozen when Sara walked in. She flung her locker open, letting the door slam into the locker next to hers with a metallic bang.

"Whoa," Greg said. "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Um … I don't know. I'm just concerned for your locker. You're exerting a little too much force right now."

Sara scowled at him. "It's just been a long day."

"What are you talking about? We all got to work together, and we solved the case. You were perfectly cheerful ten minutes ago."

"Yeah, well, that was ten minutes ago," Sara said. "This is now. The cheer is gone."

Greg's frown deepened. Why was his entire team losing its collective mind? Grissom and Sofia were leaving together, Sara was beating up on inanimate objects …

It all came together.

"Hey, Sar, I don't think they were going on a date," he said.

Sara startled and looked at him with wide eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Grissom and Sofia – it didn't look like a date to me."

She swallowed. "Why would I care if they were going on a date?"

"I didn't say that you did care," Greg said. "I'm just relaying what I saw."

Sara was interested in spite of herself. "And, what did you see?"

"I saw them leave together," he admitted.

"Which could be a date," Sara murmured.

"Yeah, but … it didn't seem like it to me. He didn't touch her, he didn't … I don't know. I think they're both smarter than that."

"Smarter than what? Dating?"

"Yeah. I'm just saying … I think they make better colleagues than anything else, you know? And, I think that they know that."

Sara took a deep breath. "Thanks, Greg."

He grinned at her. "Anytime."

Sudden panic overtook her. She and Grissom had just agreed that no one would know what was going on between them, and she had all but admitted it to Greg … time for a cover story. "But, you know, I don't really care what Grissom does in his spare time. I mean … he can date Sofia if he wants to."

Greg smiled a little _too_ understandingly. "I know. I just thought you'd want my unbiased opinion. You know, you were the one who trained my powers of observation."

"Trained your powers of observation?" Sara repeated. She giggled in spite of herself. "You're such a goofball."

"But you love me," he said with a cheesy grin.

"I do," Sara smiled. "You're a great friend, Greg."

"Well, I try."

* * *

Grissom drove Sofia to a little restaurant near the lab. It was nicer than a fast food place, but not nearly as nice as the restaurant he and Sara had visited for their first date. It seemed like a good place to take Sofia for a "state of her career" conversation.

"This is nice," she smiled as they sat down together.

Grissom nodded. "I thought you might like it."

"Do you come here often?"

"Every once in awhile."

Sofia nodded and opened her menu. "Does that make you qualified to offer suggestions?"

"That depends," Grissom replied. "Are you willing to consider meat?" He was a bit startled by his own question; it was something he never would have thought to ask before Sara had become a vegetarian.

"Of course," Sofia laughed. "I come from a very 'meat and potatoes' kind of family. My sister tried to become a vegetarian in college. My father practically disowned her."

Grissom smiled. "Well, in that case, I'd suggest the rosemary chicken."

"Thank you."

Their server appeared to take their orders. Without the menu to discuss, Grissom thought that he should get to the heart of why he had brought her to dinner.

"Will you tell me what's bothering you?"

Sofia looked a bit surprised at his bluntness. "What?"

"Well, it's not every day that one of my team tells me that she's resigning. And, every time something like that has happened, it's been because he or she was angry with someone in the lab. Sometimes it's me. Sometimes it's someone else on the team. More often, it's Ecklie."

Sofia sighed. "It's Ecklie."

Grissom smiled. "The man is a power-hungry politician. He's not interested in the science of this job, or even the law enforcement. He's interested in career advancement. He won't stop until he's in charge of the lab. And, that's fine. Someone needs to be that way, or the lab would never have leadership."

"So, you think that it's fine that Ecklie destroys everyone in his path to advance his own career?"

"I never said that I like his methods," Grissom replied. "But, that's the way that politics work. I've never been good at that." He shrugged. "Look at me. I've been with this lab for the majority of my career, yet, in the past few months, I've managed to lose half my team."

"At least you got to keep your position," Sofia said bitterly. "You weren't demoted."

Grissom sighed. "Sometimes, I think I'd rather have been demoted than to lose Nick and Warrick. Having your guys taken away … is worse than having your position taken away."

Their server arrived with their food, interrupting their conversation. They took a minute to taste their meals before Sofia spoke again.

"Losing Catherine didn't bother you?"

"She's been ready for a promotion for years," Grissom said. "I knew I'd lose her like this. It was only a matter of time. I wish she could have had the shift she wanted, but at least she got her position."

"She did," Sofia nodded. "And I lost mine."

"It's all in how you look at it," Grissom said.

Sofia frowned. "Grissom, I was a supervisor and now I'm not. I was demoted. There's no other way to see that."

"True," Grissom said, "if you're looking at this from Ecklie's point of view."

Sofia looked horrified. "Are you comparing me to Ecklie?"

"In a way," Grissom said. "He sees this as a career. He always has. Like I said, for him, it's all about advancement. That has always been the main difference between us, and the reason we've never seen eye to eye on … anything, really."

"You don't see this as a career?"

He shook his head. "I'm not in this to get ahead or to be promoted. I'm a CSI to help people. I do this to give a voice to those who can no longer speak for themselves, and to give closure to those who desperately need it. I do this to teach others, and to put all the science I've studied into practice in a positive way." He paused. "So, you can look at this one of two ways: you're here to advance your career and to move up professionally, or you're here to be the victims' last voice. The choice is yours."

Sofia looked thoughtful, but remained silent.

"It should also be known that I've always believed that actions speak louder than words," Grissom concluded quietly. "You can say whatever you want to me right now, but if you leave this lab because you were demoted, it's fairly obvious why you took this job."

He fell silent and turned his attention to the pasta primavera in front of him, leaving Sofia to her very confused thoughts.

* * *

Sara left the lab soon after her conversation with Greg, fearing that he would somehow manage to uncover more information about her. She drove home in silence, thinking of all that had happened.

While she wasn't thrilled with the idea that she was so transparent that Greg was able to see right through her, she had to admit that he had made her feel better. She had a feeling that his first loyalty was to her over Grissom, but she also knew that he wasn't the type to lie to make her feel better. If he didn't think that Grissom and Sofia were on a real date, chances were that they weren't.

Feeling somewhat better, Sara got into the shower. Somehow, a hot shower always made her problems seem far more manageable.

* * *

"And, here we are," Grissom said, pulling back into the lab parking lot. He parked his car next to Sofia's and turned to her with a smile. "Safe and sound."

She smiled. "Thank you, Gil, for everything. I think … well, let's just say that you've given me a lot to think about."

"Good," he said. "Thinking generally leads to answers."

"Yes," she agreed. "You've been … very sweet about all of this."

"I'd hate to see the lab lose a talented person like you – especially if it's over something that Ecklie did."

Her smile widened. "It means a lot to me to hear you say that."

"Well, it's true."

"Still, though …" She trailed off and reached over to take his hand. "Thank you."

Grissom looked at their joined hands in confusion. Hadn't he made himself clear on this in the past? Maybe not. Maybe Catherine was right. Maybe he needed to be more direct with her. "Sofia …"

"Yes?"

"This – what we just did – going out for dinner – you are clear about our relationship, right?" He gently disentangled his fingers from hers. "We're colleagues and friends, and I have an immense amount of professional respect for you, but … it ends there."

A flicker of hurt passed over her eyes. "Oh."

"It's not … look, I think that you're a wonderful woman. I really do. But … the thing is … I'm sort of seeing someone."

"Oh," she said again, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. "I had no idea."

"It's fairly new, but still …"

"Right," Sofia said, folding her hands in her lap. She looked at him with horror in her eyes. "This won't … our professional relationship …"

"Will not change," Grissom said firmly. "I have absolutely no trouble keeping my personal life out of the lab."

"Obviously," Sofia said with a hint of a smile. "Perhaps if you had been a bit more open, I would have known better than to make a play for you."

"Good point," Grissom said. "But, I don't think that work and romance should mix – even if it's just talking about a romance that has nothing to do with anyone at work. As soon as it's mentioned, it becomes an issue."

Sofia frowned. "I know that your team – both this one and your old one – talks about their romantic lives."

"Of course, they do," Grissom said. "I can't tell them what to discuss. I just choose to stay out of it."

"Fair enough," Sofia said. She opened her door. "Thank you again, Grissom, for everything."

"You're more than welcome," Grissom replied. "If you need to talk, you know how to reach me."

"Right," Sofia said. "Thanks."

Grissom nodded with a smile as she climbed out of his car. He waited until she had started her car and backed out of her space before leaving. He sighed. For some reason, he thought of the words of his organic chemistry lab partner from his freshmen year of undergrad.

_Women are more trouble than they're worth_.

As soon as that phrase had gone through his mind, Sara's smile appeared there, taking its place. He smiled. Maybe _some_ women were more trouble than they were worth – but, he could think of one who wasn't.

* * *

After her shower, Sara picked up her cell phone. Greg had done his best, but there was really only one person who could help her through a crisis like this. She pressed the appropriate buttons to talk to her.

"Hello?"

"Mary," Sara sighed. "This is such a mess."

"What's a mess?" Mary asked. "Did Grissom do something?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?" Mary asked. Sara could almost hear her rolling her eyes.

"He took Sofia out for dinner," she blurted out.

"What?" Mary gasped.

"He said that they were just going as colleagues, but …"

"He told you he was taking her out?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well, that's a good sign," Mary said. "If he's willing to tell you what he's doing, that means he's not sneaking around behind your back."

"Oh," Sara said. "I didn't look at it that way."

Mary sighed. "Sara, you told me not even a week ago that you had told Grissom that he could see other people if he wanted to, right?"

"Yes," Sara said.

"You said that you aren't in a 'relationship' yet, right?"

"Right."

"So that means that he's not your boyfriend, right?"

"Do you have a point with all of this?"

"A good one," Mary said. "Darling, you've set it up so that he can go out with Sofia – or anyone else – anytime he wants. And, if that's not what you want him to do, that's fine, but you need to tell him that."

"I know," Sara sighed. "I keep telling myself that I can't be mad at him for doing exactly what I said would be fine, but … I'm still upset."

"Look," Mary said, "I get it. You've been infatuated with him for years, and now that you've finally got him, you want to keep him away from the competition. That makes sense. But, sweetheart, if you want him to be your boyfriend, you need to tell him."

Horror crossed Sara's face. "I can't do that! We're not there yet! I know that isn't what he wants right now, and, if I'm honest, I'm not entirely positive it's what _I_ want. I don't want to rush into a relationship with him. I want to go slowly, and to make this work."

"Well, then …"

Sara sighed. "I know." She paused as a shrill beep sounded in her ear. "Hang on, someone's on the other line." She pulled the phone back from her face to look at the caller ID. "It's Grissom!" she gasped.

"Well, go talk to him," Mary laughed. "I need to get to bed anyway."

"I'm sorry to keep you up," Sara said as her phone beeped again.

"Don't worry about it. I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye." The word was barely out before Sara clicked to the second line. "Hello?"

"Sara?"

"Hi, Griss," she said.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No," she said. "I haven't made it that far yet."

"Good." He paused. "I … um … I just wanted to talk to you about what happened with Sofia. I …"

"Griss, it's fine," Sara interrupted. "There's no law that says you can't take her out for dinner."

"Maybe there should be," Grissom muttered.

"What?"

"We just … let's say that Sofia and I had different ideas about what tonight was about."

"Oh."

"My idea was to take her to dinner to talk about her career," Grissom hurried to clarify. "She thought it was a bit more … intimate."

"Well, I can't blame her for trying," Sara said honestly. She smiled. "You are a very attractive man."

"Thank you," Grissom said quietly. Sara could almost hear him blushing.

"I don't know if you know this, but I have a little thing for you myself," she said, grinning broadly now.

"Really?" Grissom teased, falling into the spirit of the game.

"Mm-hm. I have to admit that I find you to be incredibly attractive. Not to mention that you're the most intelligent man I've ever known, and you're sweet and kind and … Shall I go on?"

"I think I've got the picture," Grissom laughed.

"Well, good. Now you know that I'm attracted to you."

"Well, that's terribly convenient," Grissom grinned. "I have a little thing for you, too."

"Do you?" Sara smiled.

"Oh, most certainly. I find you to be a beautiful woman who is my intellectual equal and can stimulate me like no one I've ever known."

"Really?" Sara practically purred.

"Oh, yes. In fact, I was thinking that maybe I could take you out. I'd love to spend some time with you."

"Right now?"

"No," he said. "Right now, we need to sleep before we have to be at work again. But, how about we go to the movies tomorrow afternoon?"

"Assuming we leave work on time?" Sara teased.

"Well, yes, assuming that," Grissom laughed. "Would you like to go?"

"I'd love to," Sara grinned.

"Excellent," Grissom smiled. "How do you feel about foreign films?"

"I like them."

"Good. There's a new Italian movie playing at this little theater in my neighborhood. Would you like to see it?"

"I'd love to," Sara said again.

"Great," Grissom grinned. "It's a date."

"It's a date," Sara repeated, smiling so fully that she was concerned that her face might just break.

"Well," Grissom said, clearing his throat, "I'll let you get some sleep, then."

"All right," Sara agreed. "I'll see you at work."

"Right," Grissom said. "See you then."

"Good night, Griss."

"Good night."

Sara closed her phone, a new feeling of happiness and peace coming over her. How could she possibly have been angry and jealous only fifteen minutes ago? How could she ever feel angry and jealous again? Everything in her world was absolutely perfect.


	17. Changes

A/N: I know it's been awhile since I updated, but, when Thanksgiving break ends, my time to write becomes more limited! This chapter ended up far differently from my original plan, but I like it better the way it is. Initially, everything here was just a small part of the chapter, but once I got going, it became a chapter all by itself! Like I said, though, I like it this way. I hope you will like it, too!

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Changes_

"Sara!"

Sara stopped on her way into the locker room and turned to see Catherine hurrying toward her. She sighed. She had done, in her own opinion, an excellent job of avoiding Catherine the day before. She thought that it was probably sheer luck that Catherine's case had taken her out of the lab as much as Sara's had taken her away. Apparently, her luck was running out. As Catherine approached, Sara recognized the determined look in her eye. They were going to have it out, and it was going to be _now_.

"Hi, Catherine," she said, trying to smile.

"Just getting in?" Catherine asked, eyeing the purse that was still slung over Sara's shoulder.

"Yeah, my shift starts in fifteen minutes," Sara said, hoping that that would be enough to tell Catherine to leave her alone.

"Okay," Catherine said. "I'll be quick, then. We need to talk about … Can we talk for a minute?"

Sara nodded reluctantly, and they walked into the empty locker room together.

"Look," Catherine said, turning to face her, "I'm sure you know what I want to talk about."

"Yeah, I think I do."

Catherine nodded. "I'm still not sure what happened that day, and, somehow, I have a feeling you're not going to tell me."

Sara sighed. "Things just … got to me. I was out of line with you, and I know that. We've always worked well together, and I …"

"I don't want that to change," Catherine said, agreeing with Sara's unspoken statement. "You may have been out of line, but I should have validated your concerns." She sighed. "In the end, you nearly lost your job and I nearly destroyed my friendship with Grissom. I think we've both …" She trailed off, at a loss for words.

"Yeah," Sara said, understanding the sentiment.

Catherine gave Sara a slight smile. "Can we just … call a truce?"

"Yes," Sara said, feeling a weight she hadn't even been aware of lift from her shoulders. "I'd like that."

"Good," Catherine said, her smile expanding. "Well, I won't keep you. Grissom will want you there for assignments."

"Right," Sara said. "Thanks, Catherine."

"Thank you, too."

* * *

Sara needn't have hurried to get her assignment; there was none to receive. Their shift was slow, to put it mildly. Sara was completely caught up on everything and bored out of her mind when Greg found her leaning back in her chair in the break room.

"What are you up to?"

"Counting ceiling tiles," Sara replied, pulling herself back into an upright position.

Greg grinned. "Wanna play cards?"

"You have cards?"

"You don't?"

Sara laughed. "No. I don't."

"I keep a deck in my locker," Greg said, pulling them from his pocket. He sat down across from Sara and shuffled them. "The game, my friend, is Go Fish."

Sara laughed louder. "All right. Deal me in."

They had only played two rounds – Greg soundly defeating Sara both times – when Sofia came in.

"What are you two playing?"

"Go Fish," Greg replied. "Want in? I'm getting tired of kicking Sara's ass."

"I'm going to come back this time!" Sara exclaimed.

Sofia laughed. "Okay. I'm in."

After Greg had beat both women again, Grissom walked into the break room. He stared at them.

"Are you playing … Go Fish?"

"Please tell me you have a case for me," Sara moaned. "Greg just beat me three times in a row!"

"Sorry," Grissom grinned. "It's a slow night."

"Want in, Griss?" Greg offered.

Grissom shrugged. "Why not?"

By the end of the shift, the lab techs had joined in; Archie quickly proved that he was the only one who could beat Greg at Go Fish. They moved on to other games, but avoided anything that could be played at a casino, which was Grissom's only rule. They became so absorbed in the games that they were a bit surprised when the members of the daylight shift began to trickle in.

"Wow," Mia said, looking at her watch. "I'd better to fill Mark in on everything I have pending."

"You have cases pending, and you've been sitting here _playing cards_?" Grissom asked in shock.

"No," Mia laughed. "That was a joke."

Grissom shook his head. "Good night, Mia."

Once Mia left the table, everyone else began to get up as well. Finally, only Sara and Grissom were left.

"Well, I guess we get to leave on time, then," Grissom smiled.

"Yeah," Sara agreed.

"Are you still up for the movie?"

"Of course," she said, smiling at him.

"Good. I looked it up; the show starts at six. Can I pick you up around 5:30?"

"Grissom, that's silly," Sara said. "The theater is in your neighborhood. I don't want you to drive all the way to my place just to go back. I'll meet you there."

A conflicted expression crossed Grissom's face as his desire to be a gentleman clashed with Sara's sensible logic.

"Come to my house," he said at last, feeling that this was a reasonable compromise. "We'll go to the theater together."

"All right," Sara agreed. "Still 5:30?"

"Sure."

She smiled. "I'll see you then."

* * *

At a quarter after five, Grissom dashed around his already-clean house, straightening cushions and wiping imaginary dust from tables. Hank watched him lazily from his spot curled up on the floor.

"Sara's coming over," Grissom informed the dog. "You be nice to her. I'm not sure how she feels about dogs. I think she likes them – she's a vegetarian, so I guess that means she likes animals. But, still, I don't know for sure, so … be nice, okay?"

The dog looked at him for a moment, then put his head down. Grissom took that for agreement, and went to make sure that the towels were straight on the rack in the bathroom.

Prompt at 5:30, his doorbell rang. Grissom nearly jumped out of his skin. Hank jumped up from the floor and ran to the front door, barking madly.

"Stop that," Grissom scolded. He grabbed the dog's collar to hold him back as he opened the door. "Hi," he smiled.

"Hi," Sara said, her smile widening at the sight of the dog. "Who's this?"

"This is Hank," Grissom said, pulling the dog back so that Sara could enter the house. "He's more friendly than dangerous, but he likes to put on a show when new people come over. Give him a minute, and he'll be your best friend."

Sara giggled and extended her hand for the dog to sniff. He sniffed at her for a minute, then licked her hand. She giggled again, and patted his head. "I didn't know you that you have a dog," she said, looking up at Grissom.

"I've had him for three years," Grissom replied.

"You never talk about him."

He shrugged. "I guess … I like to keep my personal life personal."

"So do I, but, Griss, he's just a dog," Sara laughed, still running her hands over the dog's head. "What is he?"

"He's a Boxer."

"Oh, a Boxer," Sara sighed, turning her attention back to the dog. "And, you're such a pretty Boxer, aren't you? You're just the most handsome dog I've ever met!"

Grissom cleared his throat. "So … not to be forward, but do I get a kiss, too, or is all your affection reserved for my dog?"

Sara's eyes lit up as she grinned and stood back up to her full height. "I'd be more than happy to give you a kiss," she said in a low voice, stepping closer to him and winding her arms around his neck.

Grissom's hands went to her waist as she leaned in to kiss him. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss.

Hank barked, and they broke apart. Grissom smiled but shook his head.

"I need to talk to him about proper timing."

Sara laughed. "Well, if we want to see the movie, we should probably go anyway, huh?"

"Yes, we should," Grissom agreed. "Would you like to walk? The theater is only a few blocks away."

"That would be great," Sara smiled.

"Good."

They said good bye to Hank, and walked out into the cool night. Grissom locked the door, then took Sara's hand to lead her to the theater. She laced her fingers through his, thinking that she had finally found perfect happiness.

"So, what is this movie about?" she asked.

"An Italian sailor who is forced to leave the love of his life to go to war," Grissom replied.

"Sounds sad."

"Maybe it'll have a happy ending."

"Maybe," she agreed.

They reached the theater, where a line to buy tickets had already formed. They chatted while they waited, which made the time go faster. They finally made it to the ticket window; Grissom bought their tickets and they hurried into the theater.

Sara had not realized how long they had been waiting until they entered the darkened theater; the movie was already starting. An usher led them to two empty seats near the middle of the theater. They smiled at each other as they sat down, knowing that all further conversation would have to wait until the movie ended.

* * *

"Well," Sara said as the credits began to roll.

Grissom looked at her with a pained expression. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I thought it would be better than that."

Sara laughed. "Griss, you didn't make the movie. Don't worry about it."

"But, I invited you –"

"Stop!" Sara exclaimed, still laughing. "It's fine. I've certainly seen bad movies before. You don't have to apologize."

He sighed. "Let me make it up to you."

"How? By taking me to another movie?" Sara chuckled.

"Well, we could do that, too, but I was thinking of something more immediate."

"Like what?"

"Come back to my place. I'll make you dinner."

A warm, tingly feeling spread through her. "Okay," she said softly, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

He smiled and took her hand to pull her out of her seat. "Let's go."

They walked out of the theater hand-in-hand, not speaking until they had reached the sidewalk. Grissom swung Sara's hand slightly and smiled at her.

"So, what was your favorite part?"

She laughed. "Griss, that movie was _awful_."

"I know," he sighed. "It got great reviews, though. I was really looking forward to it."

"Well, if you had told me that it had great reviews, I would have refused to go," Sara said. "I always hate the movies that the critics like."

"_Always_?" Grissom asked disbelievingly.

"Well, maybe _always_ is an exaggeration, but _usually_."

"Well, Roger Ebert, you can pick the next movie we see."

"Yeah?" Sara asked, glancing at him. He was serious. He really did want to see another movie with her – to go on another date with her.

"Yeah," he smiled, gripping her hand tighter.

"Okay. I'll take that challenge." She smiled, returning the pressure on his hand. "And, _your_ challenge will be dinner tonight."

"Oh, no. Are you trying to tell me that you're an impossibly picky eater?"

"Not really. It's just the vegetarianism that usual gets people."

"Well, if that's all, I'm certainly up to the challenge," Grissom grinned as he unlocked his front door.

"Okay, Emeril," Sara smiled. "I'm ready to be impressed."

Grissom opened the door and Hank came bounding out to meet them. Grissom laughed and grabbed his collar to redirect him inside.

"Does he need a walk?" Sara asked, closing the door behind them.

"No, he's fine. I took him out right before you got here," Grissom replied.

Sara nodded and patted the dog's head. "He's sweet. Just look at those eyes!"

"Yeah, he's always been affectionate," Grissom replied, watching as Hank licked Sara's hands. "He thinks he's a lapdog, though, so watch it when you sit down."

Sara giggled. "Why do the big dogs always think they're little?"

"I think he was cuddled too much as a puppy," Grissom sighed. "Lindsey fell in love with him from day one, and she was always over here hugging him, carrying him around, letting him crawl all over her, letting him sleep with her …" He rolled his eyes. "On the plus side, he's extremely gentle as a result. So, I guess it's worth it to have to shove all sixty pounds of dog off my lap from time to time."

Sara smiled. "I didn't realize that Lindsey was over here that much."

"Well, she's quickly getting too cool for me, but I used to take her for Catherine from time to time." He smiled wistfully. "She's a great kid. Sometimes, I wish she were still that little six-year-old who would run into my office and demand to see my butterflies."

"She still loves you," Sara said quietly.

"I know," Grissom said. "I should call Catherine and ask if I can have a 'Lindsey and Uncle Gil' day."

"You should," Sara encouraged. "There's no reason for you to lose your relationship with her just because she's getting older."

"You're right," Grissom agreed. "Well, I should get started on dinner."

"How can I help?" Sara asked.

"No, no," Grissom smiled. "I'm making dinner for you this time. You don't get to help."

"Not at all?"

"Not at all."

"So, I should just …?"

He shrugged, already on his way to the kitchen. "Play with Hank. Talk to me. Whatever."

Sara shook her head and looked at the dog. He was following his master, undoubtedly hoping to get his own dinner once Grissom had made his way into the kitchen. Feeling that she didn't have many other options, Sara followed them.

"So, what are you making?" she asked, watching Grissom wash his hands.

"Fettuccini alfredo and salad."

"Very impressive."

Sara watched as he pulled a container of sauce from the freezer and opened it, cracking it into a pot on the stove. He smiled at her.

"I made this a week ago," he said. "For some reason, I find it physically impossible to make small amounts of sauce, so I always end up freezing some."

"You – you can make your own alfredo?"

"Of course," he said, filling another pot with water to cook the noodles.

"I … wow, Griss. I never pictured you to be a chef."

"Oh, my dear, I have many skills that may surprise you."

"Really?" Sara asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Such as?"

He smiled and shook his head. "All in good time. I can't give away all my secrets in one night. What reason would there be for you to come back?"

"He's standing right in front of me," Sara said quietly.

Grissom flushed. "You're sweet."

"So are you." Sara leaned across the counter to kiss him. "Thank you for all of this. You really don't have to do it."

"I want to," he replied, kissing her again.

She smiled and kissed him one last time. "Well, thank you."

"You're welcome." Grissom smiled at her and turned to go back to adding salt and oil to the water.

Sara watched him for a minute, then turned her attention to the dog who was pacing around her feet. Grissom finished what he was doing, then stopped to watch Sara.

He smiled slightly as he watched Hank roll onto his back and Sara drop to her knees to pet him. He thought back over everything that had happened since she had arrived at his door, and his smile widened.

He had never been so at ease, so … comfortable … around a woman before. He had never felt so _right_ welcoming a woman into his home, or cooking for her, or teasing her, or … falling for her. She was making him looser, more relaxed, more … more the man he wanted to be.

She was helping him change – for the better.

Sara looked up and saw him staring at her. "What?" she asked.

He smiled. "Thank you, too," he said.

"For what?" she asked with a puzzled frown.

"For being you," Grissom said simply.

Sara smiled, but still looked a bit confused. "Thanks for being you, too, Grissom."

He smiled and cleared his throat. "Shall we eat?"

"I'd love to."

* * *

After dinner, Sara insisted on helping with the dishes. They had everything put away quickly, and settled on Grissom's couch. He flipped through the channels until he came upon a marathon of _Saturday Night Live_ reruns; they agreed that it was the best thing to watch.

As the Spartan cheerleaders once again strove to put Alexis down, Grissom reached across to take Sara's hand. She glanced at him and smiled, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

"This is nice," she said.

"You know what would be nicer?" Grissom asked.

"What?" she asked.

Grissom smiled and reached up to touch her cheek. "This," he whispered, closing the distance between them to kiss her.

Their kiss went on and on. Sara somehow found herself lying across Grissom's couch, pinned beneath him as they kissed feverishly. She thought of the number of times that she had dreamed of this happening and wanted to giggle. The real thing was _so_ much better than her fantasies.

They were quite involved in making out when a ringing sound cut through the air. Grissom pulled back and groaned.

"Is that you?" Sara asked, trying to catch her breath.

"Far worse," Grissom sighed. "That's my alarm. We have to get to work."

"Work?" Sara asked, still feeling a little dazed.

Grissom laughed, shaking his head in an effort to clear the haziness that kissing Sara had produced. "Yes, work. That's my cell phone alarm. It's my 'you have to leave now if you don't want to be late' alarm."

"Oh," Sara sighed.

Grissom sat up carefully, trying not to hurt her. "Well."

"Yeah," Sara grinned, already missing his weight on top of her. "Well."

Grissom touched her cheek again. "You, my dear, are amazing."

Sara flushed. "You're not so bad yourself," she teased.

"Shall we go to work?"

"If we must."

"We must," Grissom said, standing up and offering a hand to pull Sara to her feet.

Sara looked at him shyly. "Can we … do this again sometime?"

"Sweetheart, I insist."


	18. Stress

A/N: I'm so sorry about the time between updates! Things were nuts with holiday parties this week. I know, I know, I'm just letting real life interfere, right? Well, I am sorry. I do have winter break coming up, though, so I should have more time to write after Christmas.

This chapter deals with some very bizarre subject matter. But, let's face it, this was a strange episode. I hope you like the way I've handled it.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 515, "King Baby."

* * *

_Stress_

There was something surreal about walking into the lab with Grissom at the start of a shift. Sara, although she made it a practice to arrive early, was never there early enough to walk in with him. However, after following him from his townhouse to the lab and parking next to him, it only made sense to walk in with him, sharing secret smiles.

Their smiles faded almost instantly once they were inside. Ecklie was waiting for them.

"Gil, you're late."

"My shift starts in twenty minutes," Grissom said, frowning. "I'd say that makes me early."

"Late for you," Ecklie said with a wave of his hand. "You're always here an hour early. Where have you been?"

"At home, Conrad," Grissom said wearily. "What's happened that requires me to be at work earlier than usual?"

"High profile case," Ecklie said. "Bruce Eiger was just found dead on his front steps."

"The casino mogul?"

"The very same."

Grissom glanced at his watch. "Well, it goes to swing, doesn't it? Shouldn't you be having this conversation with Catherine?"

"She's already at the scene," Ecklie said.

"Then …?"

"I want you to take the lead on this one."

"But, you said …"

"I said that this is a high profile case," Ecklie interrupted. "I want you to be there, Gil. You're the senior supervisor, and, to be honest, you've worked more of these cases than Catherine has. I don't care that it didn't fall to your shift, or that Catherine was the first one at the scene. You're running this one. I'll run interference. We need everyone we've got on this case. They'll all report to you."

Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Catherine's not going to like that."

"Well, she's going to have to deal with that," Ecklie said. "It's nothing against Catherine, but in a case like this, we need the most senior supervisor to take the lead. And, Grissom, that's you."

"Right," Grissom said, already in working mode. "I'll get my team together, and we'll get over there."

"Good. Give them the assignment, then meet me outside. We'll ride over together. I want both of us there when I explain this to Catherine."

"Right," Grissom said again, certain that it would be better if she got all of the anger out of her system at once, when they were both there to handle her wrath. "Are Warrick and Nick there with Catherine?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Grissom glanced at his watch. "I'll tell you what: I'll go with you now. Sara, can you update Greg and Sofia on this?"

"Sure," Sara said.

"Good. Bring Greg to the scene with you, and tell Sofia to wait here. She can start processing evidence as soon as it comes in."

"Got it," Sara replied.

Ecklie looked at her as if just realized that she was standing next to Grissom. "Hi, Sara," he said a bit cautiously.

"Ecklie," she said with a slight nod. "I'll see you both at the scene."

Grissom gave her one last smile, then left with Ecklie. Sara turned down the hall, ready to get to work. It looked like this shift would be far more exciting than the last.

* * *

Grissom's initial impression had been correct: Catherine was extremely displeased to have him placed as her supervisor on the case. After receiving the full report on the case from Brass, Grissom immediately crossed the tape and opened his kit, letting Ecklie talk to Catherine first. He listened to Ecklie explaining that, as the senior supervisor, Grissom would run the investigation into the death of a very prominent Vegas mogul.

Catherine was obviously still upset when she returned to where Grissom and Warrick surrounded the body. Grissom mentally sighed, knowing that it would take some work to win her over.

"It's nothing personal, Catherine," he said.

She turned to look at him, her anger and disbelief etched all over her face. Grissom mentally cringed.

"Cases like this rain down hard," he said calmly, trying to appeal to her sense of logic. "You need all the help you can get."

"I need _help_," she almost spat at him, "not supervision."

Grissom pursed his lips. Round one was over, and neither of them had emerged too scarred. He was, therefore, a bit concerned about round two.

* * *

"You're serious?" Greg asked, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. "_Bruce Eiger_ died?"

"The one and only," Sara replied.

"You mean, Bruce Eiger was murdered," Sofia said. "That man had more enemies than Ecklie. There's no way he went quietly."

Greg grinned and Sara laughed outright. She was actually beginning to like Sofia.

"He didn't just have enemies," Greg said. "He claimed to have dirt on every bigwig in Vegas. _And_, he had an _inner_ _sanctum_."

"What exactly did he do with this 'inner sanctum?'" Sara asked skeptically.

"No one knows," Greg said. "Most people think he just used it for business. But, I've heard that the man had more secrets than he did enemies."

"Even better," Sofia grinned. "Now I _know_ that he was murdered."

"Well, then, we'll have to find out how," Sara smiled.

"What's the game plan, Grissom Substitute?" Greg asked.

"Well, Greg, since you asked, Grissom wants you and me to go to the scene. Sofia, he wants you to wait here to start processing evidence as soon as it comes in."

"Got it," Sofia said. She smiled. "Since I'm stuck at the lab, I think I'll go ahead and have a second cup of Greg's wonderful coffee."

"Yeah, yeah," Greg grinned. "I only made it for Sara." He winked at her. "She's a fan."

"Aw, thanks, Greggo," Sara smiled. "I'll have to take a cup for the road."

"Does that mean that I get to drive?"

She laughed. "Don't get your hopes up."

* * *

When Sara and Greg arrived at the scene, Nick and Warrick were ready to greet them. They practically ran forward, holding the tape up so that their coworkers could pass under it.

"Happy to see us?" Sara teased.

Nick grinned. "Always."

"We are excited to work together again," Warrick said, ending his sentence a bit uncertainly.

"But …?" Greg prompted.

Nick and Warrick exchanged a look.

"We wanted to warn you," Nick said at last.

"About what?" Sara frowned.

Warrick sighed. "Mom and Dad are fighting."

"What?" Greg exclaimed. "Why?"

"Well, Ecklie gave Grissom lead on this case," Nick explained. "But, since it came in on our shift, Catherine had been running the investigation."

"Until Ecklie and Grissom showed up," Warrick added. "Then, Ecklie proclaimed Grissom the lead, and Catherine … well, you know how she is. She did that controlled 'I'll rip your faces off later' thing with both of them."

"Ouch," Greg said, making a face.

"What did Griss do?" Sara asked.

"Oh, you know Griss," Warrick replied. "He tried to tell her that it wasn't personal, but Cath …"

"Makes it personal," Sara said quietly, thinking of her own recent feud with the older woman. "How are things between them now?"

"Well, let's put it this way," Nick said, "Grissom's processing inside and Catherine's doing the perimeter."

"Yeah, that says a lot," Sara muttered, knowing that Grissom and Catherine generally did the inside of the house together at any given scene.

"What are you two doing?" Greg asked.

"I've been on the body," Warrick said. "But, Griss just asked us to go look at the balcony. It looks like our boy took a little tumble."

"What a way to go," Greg said. "Do you think he jumped?"

"Jury's still out," Nick said. "We're working on it." He glanced at his watch. "We should probably get back up there. Grissom will notice if we're gone much longer."

"He's inside?" Sara asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, then," she smiled. "Thanks, guys, for the warning."

"Hey, we've got your backs," Warrick grinned. "See you guys around the scene."

Sara grinned. "I'm so excited about that."

"Yeah, me, too," Nick grinned.

They headed back toward the house together, separating once they reached the drive. Nick and Warrick went inside and upstairs; Sara and Greg were stopped by the opening garage door.

"Twenty bucks says Grissom's opening that," Greg said.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Like I'd bet against that. Come on, let's go say hello."

They walked to the garage together. As anticipated, Grissom stood on the other side of the opening door. Sara inclined her head in a silent hello; he smiled at her.

"Question," he said as they stopped in front of him. "You come home; see your husband lying in the driveway. What do you do?"

"Is that a trick question?" Greg asked.

Grissom gave him a half smile.

"Stop, jump out, run over to him," Sara replied, taking Grissom's question at face value.

"Or," Grissom suggested, turning slightly to the cars behind him, "take the time to pull into the garage and park and lock your car?"

Sara looked at Greg, who shrugged.

"Her car is in the garage, parked and locked?" Sara asked in disbelief.

"Yes."

"Well, maybe she moved it after …" Greg said, trailing off as he realized that there was no real "good" time for Mrs. Eiger to have moved her car into the garage.

"Does this make her a suspect?" Sara asked.

"She's always been a suspect," Grissom said fairly. "This just makes her look exceptionally culpable."

"You know, this job is making me lose all my faith in marriage," Greg said. "Why is it that spouses are always offing each other?"

Sara and Grissom looked at each other for a moment.

"Sometimes, they can't see any other way out," Sara said quietly. She cleared her throat. "What do you need us to do, Griss?"

"Catherine's got the backyard under control; why don't you two take the front?"

"You got it," Sara said. She gave him a smile. "See you later."

"Have fun," Grissom smiled as they headed back down the driveway.

"We always do," Greg grinned.

* * *

Aside from an oil mark in the driveway, Sara and Greg's search of the front of the house yielded very little. Even the trashcans on the curb, generally a treasure-trove of useful evidence, were empty.

"I don't know," Greg sighed as he slammed down the lid of the last trashcan, "maybe he really did just commit suicide."

"Maybe," Sara mused. "It just seems so strange, though. Why would Bruce Eiger, of all people, commit suicide?"

Greg shrugged. "We don't know what went on behind closed doors. Maybe he was a very tormented man. Maybe his secrets were _horrible_."

Sara grinned. "Well, then, we'll just have to uncover them."

* * *

As the lead CSI, it was Grissom's responsibility to go back to the morgue with the body. After seeing all that was left of Bruce Eiger placed in Doc Robbins's capable hands, Grissom headed off in search of Sofia.

She was in the layout room processing the shorts Bruce had been wearing when they had found him. She looked up when Grissom came in.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he replied. "How's it going?"

"Not all that great," she replied. "I know this is probably a stupid question, but, are you sure that Mr. Eiger was wearing these when he fell? I'm not really finding anything on them."

"Actually, according to his wife, he was naked when he fell," Grissom replied. "She put these on him after the fact. I believe she said she wanted to preserve his dignity."

"I'm pretty sure all dignity was lost when he took a header out of his own window," Sofia smiled.

"Did you know him?" Grissom asked.

"Bruce Eiger?" she laughed. "No, I'm afraid I never had the pleasure."

"Well, now's your chance," Grissom smiled. "Would you like to join me for his autopsy? The body should be posted by now."

"Shouldn't we wait for Catherine?" Sofia asked delicately.

"She's still at the crime scene. She won't be back for hours," Grissom replied.

"All right," Sofia agreed. "Sounds like fun."

* * *

An hour later, Grissom and Sofia walked out of the autopsy room with more questions than answers. The only thing Doc Robbins had truly confirmed for them was that Bruce had died as a result of his fall, but that the impact had not killed him instantly. He had choked on his own blood, which had taken several minutes.

They walked back into the hall and Grissom gave Sofia a small smile.

"I'm glad you decided to stay, Sofia," he said.

"So am I," she replied with a half smile of her own. "For now."

The rapid clicking of heels that Grissom had come to associate with Catherine broke the relative quiet of the hall. He turned to see her hurrying toward them.

"Thanks for waiting," she said. "I got here as fast as I could."

"We just finished," Grissom said quietly.

"Grissom," Catherine said angrily. "What the hell? Am I going to have _any_ part of this case? Or, should I just go back to my office and start shuffling some papers?"

"Catherine, it wasn't personal," Sofia said in an attempt to smooth over the situation. "The body was posted; we didn't think you'd be back for a few hours." She offered her the file in her hands. "There's the report."

"Stay out of this," Catherine warned her.

Sofia looked at Grissom, and walked away. Grissom watched her go, then turned back to the angry woman in front of him.

"So, is this an Ecklie mandate, or is this just your thoughtlessness?" she asked.

"Well, look, I apologize," Grissom said calmly. "But, this is a group effort."

"Thanks," Catherine said sarcastically. "I feel _much_ better."

She stalked off, leaving Grissom alone in the morgue. Doc Robbins came out of the autopsy room.

"Woman troubles?" he teased.

"You know, I didn't get the hang of being a supervisor for months," Grissom said. "It took me forever to get to the point of being insulted when someone else was placed over me on a case. I can't believe she's this upset about reporting to me. She hasn't had her own shift for that long."

"If you want my opinion, I think she sees this as Ecklie thinking that she's not good enough."

"But, he told her …"

"I'm sure he did," Doc Robbins interrupted. "But, like you said, she hasn't had the job all that long. I'm sure she saw this as a chance to prove herself. Then, before she even got a shot at it, her chance disappeared."

Grissom sighed. "You know, she's one of my best friends, but, sometimes, she makes me crazy."

Doc Robbins grinned. "I wish you good luck with this case. Somehow, I think you're going to need it."

"Yeah," Grissom sighed. "Thanks."

* * *

Grissom left the morgue and made his way to his office, hoping to find some peace. He had spoken to practically everyone working the case, all of whom had different theories as to what had happened to Bruce. The only person who was not offering up her opinion was Catherine; Grissom had a feeling she was as eager to avoid him as he was to avoid her.

It wasn't that he didn't want to work with her. He had missed working with her since her move to swing. He and Catherine had clicked from their very first day together. Their personalities and professional styles complemented each other in a way that made them excellent teammates. Despite being a bit nervous about how Catherine would take him showing up at her crime scene, Grissom had been rather excited when Ecklie had told him that they would be working together again.

But, now …

Things were not going as he had hoped.

Sighing, he went back to the reports that Greg had given him. He was sure that there was something there … he just had to find it.

"We have a problem."

Grissom looked up to see Catherine marching into his office. "Oh, no, not again," he groaned. He was not ready for another fight with her.

She stopped in front of his desk and laced her fingers together in front of her. "The memory card was stolen from my digital camera and replaced with a blank," she said. "The only time the camera was out of my possession was at the crime scene."

"Well, how can that be?" Grissom asked in disbelief. He took off his reading glasses to look up at her. "It was a secure scene."

"I don't know," Catherine said with a shake of her head. "I dusted the camera and the card. There weren't any prints. All of the crime scene photos of the body and the blood evidence were on that card."

Grissom sighed deeply, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. "We _do_ have a problem."

"Yes, we do," Ecklie said from the doorway. He had clearly heard every word.

So much for time to process what had happened. "Get back to the crime scene, Catherine," Grissom said. "Get what you can."

"Well, I know that the scene's been released," she said.

"Well, go _quickly_," Grissom said, gesturing toward the door. Why wasn't she running out of this office? Did she want more time to go by?

"Okay," she said, turning and leaving.

Grissom exhaled. Ecklie stepped fully into the room.

"I hate to say it …"

"Don't," Grissom said, cutting him off. "She's a great CSI, Conrad, and you know she can do her job as supervisor. It was a secure scene; she should have been confident leaving her camera."

Ecklie studied him for a moment. "You know, I admire your willingness to stand up for your team," he said.

"Thank you."

"But, in this case, we both know that, although it was a secure scene, something went wrong."

"Conrad …"

"Gil, I'm just trying to say that I'm glad you're the lead on this one."

Ecklie left, and Grissom ran his hands over his eyes. It was going to be a long shift.

* * *

In the end, the loss of Catherine's memory card turned out to be a good thing. During her second search of the crime scene, she discovered that which Sara and Greg had been denied the night before: full trashcans. She had them brought back to the lab, where she and Warrick explored their contents. To their shock, they found Mrs. Eiger's bloody clothes, a stained rug, and, in the greatest surprise of all, a used, bloody, cloth, adult diaper. The size indicated that it had been worn by Bruce, but, as Catherine said, Mia would have to test the urine inside to determine that with certainty.

Yet another return trip to the crime scene was in order. They needed to see the rug in its natural habitat. Grissom, Catherine and Warrick went together. They placed the rug in the study, which made sense when they considered the divots in the rug compared with the furniture. However, they were completely perplexed by a handprint on the rug. Based on the orientation of the rug within the room, the handprint was half behind a wall.

They discussed the possibility of the rug belonging in another room, but Warrick dismissed it. Grissom stared at the handprint and the divots.

"Think outside the rug," he said at last.

"A man with secrets needs a place to hide them," Catherine said slowly.

Grissom knelt down next to the handprint, shining his flashlight first on it, then slowly up the wall. He paused as his eyes fell upon a seam in the wall. It wasn't solid. He pushed on it for a moment, and the section of the wall slid aside, revealing a small entrance to another room.

"Get the hell out of here!" Warrick exclaimed. "Nice."

Grissom looked at them for a moment, then crawled through the short tunnel that led into Bruce Eiger's secret world. He straightened up on the other side, staring around him in utter shock.

Bruce Eiger's deepest secret was a nursery filled with adult-sized baby furniture and toys. Grissom looked back as Catherine and Warrick straightened up next to him. They, too, were momentarily at a loss for words.

It was Warrick who broke the silence by laughing. The sound made it "okay" to speak again.

"Wow," Catherine said in shock. "Just when you thought you'd seen it all."

"And people lived in fear of this guy?" Warrick asked incredulously.

"Imagine the fear that he lived with," Grissom said.

Warrick laughed again. "Can we call Nick? He's never going to believe me unless he sees this."

Grissom rolled his eyes. "All right. I'm sure we could use his help to process this one."

* * *

Unlike so many other strange scenes they had encountered, staying longer to process the nursery did not gradually make it feel normal. Nick, always incredulous of deviant ways of life, was duly appalled by, as he put it, "the true inner sanctum." For once, the others, even Grissom, were inclined agree that this way of life was very difficult to comprehend.

Grissom and Nick found themselves delving a bit deeper into Bruce's secret world as they visited a store called Forever Baby. They had found bags with the store's logo in the nursery, and were sure that this was Bruce's supplier. While Grissom talked to the clerk, learning about infantilism, Nick took a walk around the store. He found a toy chest like the one in the nursery; however, the model sold in the store appeared to be bigger on the inside.

When they returned to the lab, Grissom and Nick found Sara and Greg going over photos from the nursery with Warrick and Catherine.

"This is unreal," Greg said. "I can't believe that this was Bruce Eiger's big secret."

"_Massive_ secret, I'd say," Warrick said. "Can you imagine what people would say if they found out?"

"Can you imagine that there's an entire store that caters to people like him?" Nick asked.

"You're back!" Catherine exclaimed. "What was Forever Baby like?"

"Creepy," Nick replied.

"Interesting," Grissom said.

Warrick and Sara exchanged a smile.

"What did we miss while we were shopping?" Grissom asked.

"Well, I got my crime scene photos back," Catherine said, avoiding Grissom's eyes. Somehow, the loss of her memory card made her feel inferior. It was as though it confirmed Ecklie's appointment of Grissom as lead CSI on their case. "Some sleazy journalist wormed his way into the scene and stole them."

"How did that happen?" Grissom asked.

"Brass has the full report," Catherine said shortly.

Grissom nodded, wisely dropping it.

"And, we discovered that Bruce didn't just have a nursery – he had a milkmaid," Warrick added in an attempt to change the subject.

"What?" Nick exclaimed.

"One young lady was providing Bruce's bottles," Warrick said. "All the milk in the nursery is human."

Even Grissom looked appalled.

"Okay, this just went to a whole new level of weird," Nick said. He cleared his throat, wanting to escape the tension that had fallen with Grissom and Catherine's exchange. He decided to save Sara along with him. "Hey, Sara, want to help me with something?"

"Sure," she replied, equally glad to leave an angry Catherine behind.

They walked down the hall together. Sara gave Nick a grin.

"Thanks."

"Well, I didn't think that you'd want to be around Catherine when she's worked up, especially after …"

"Yeah," Sara said quietly. She smiled again. "So, really, on a scale of one to ten, how bizarre is this experience?"

"About a twenty-five," Nick replied. "What kind of a man wants to spend his time pretending to be a baby?"

"A very odd one," Sara acknowledged. "What are we doing?"

"We're going to look at a toy chest," Nick said, retrieving it from the evidence gathered from the house. He handed Sara a screw driver. "This is the same as the toy box they sell at Forever Baby, except the one at the store is twice as big on the inside."

"Well, he did like his secret spaces," Sara said, unfastening a screw.

They pulled the side of the toy box away to reveal a new secret space – this one full of files.

"Whoa," Nick said. "Bingo." He began to read off the names on the files. "Sy Magli … Sam Braun … Rory Atwater?"

"_Sheriff_ Rory Atwater?" Sara asked in shock.

"Looks like it," Nick said. "Along with some gaming commissioners, judges, pro athletes …"

Sara picked up a picture of a baby lying on top of the stack on her side of the box. She flipped it over.

"No name," she informed Nick. "Just a date: twelve – twenty – oh-one."

They went through several files, hoping to find something that would incriminate someone – or, at the very least, give the baby in the picture a name – but didn't find anything that would help their investigation. All they found was confirmation that Bruce's claims were true: he did have damning evidence on every bigwig in Vegas.

With the knowledge that Bruce's secret files weren't going to help, the team's focus shifted to the woman who had been willing to provide Bruce with her breast milk.

* * *

In the end, nearly every theory they had had proved to be correct. The wife had been involved, the "babysitter" had been involved, and Bruce had killed himself.

Mrs. Eiger, acknowledging that she turned a blind eye to her husband's "unseemly" life, had known that he liked to spend time pretending to be a baby. Their arrangement was that she would go out on Thursdays, leaving him alone to hire a "babysitter." The babysitter was Tanya.

She had only been nineteen when she became Bruce's lover. He had convinced her that he wanted a baby. A young, impressionable girl who wanted to jumpstart her singing career, Tanya agreed to mother his child. However, shortly after their son's birth, Bruce took him away, promising that she could have him back once her career was established, once she was older, once she was more ready to be a mother.

Then, he took her to his nursery.

For the next five years, Tanya worked at Bruce's babysitter and milkmaid. She did it all in the hopes that he would let her have her son back.

On the day of Bruce's death, Tanya had decided that _she_ needed some incriminating information about _him_. She slipped him LSD, and took pictures of him dancing around the nursery, high as a kite.

Then, Bruce took off, running down the hall and up the stairs. Tanya ran along with him, offering encouragement as he declared himself a bird.

To her shock, he took their words literally, and threw himself off the balcony, thinking that he could fly.

Tanya stared at his broken body for about thirty seconds before realizing that she needed to get out. She left the house, hoping that she'd never be back again.

Mrs. Eiger arrived home moments later to the sight of her husband's body on the front steps. He was still alive – just barely. She stood and watched him die, feeling her freedom settle over her with each drop of blood that settled on her shoes.

After his death, she took off his diaper and put on his shorts, then cleaned the house of any visible evidence of his "other" life: the diaper and the rug.

Between the three of them, they had managed to kill Bruce Eiger, the most feared man in Vegas.

* * *

"Wow," Catherine said as she, Grissom and Brass left the interrogation room. "I … just … wow."

"Agreed," Brass said. "Hey, listen, do you two want to go grab a drink?"

"_Yes_. After this case, we've earned it," Catherine said empathetically. She looked at Grissom almost nervously. "Gil?"

He smiled. If she was willing to make amends, so was he. "Sure."

"Great," Brass smiled. "In honor of Bruce Eiger, let's go first class. Shall we meet at the Bellagio in an hour?"

"Sure," Catherine grinned.

"All right," Grissom agreed.

"Great," Brass said again. "I'll see you there."

"Do you want to go back to the lab first?" Catherine asked.

Grissom nodded. "I need to get some things from my office."

"Let's go, then."

* * *

Once back at the lab, Grissom headed straight for his office. His intention was to grab some papers that he needed, then to say good night to Sara before leaving. Apparently, she had similar ideas.

"Hey," Sara smiled as she walked into Grissom's office.

"Hey," he replied with a grin. "How are you holding up?"

"I should be asking you that," Sara said. "It was a weird one, but I don't think I had to deal with half of what you did."

Grissom shrugged. "All in a day's work."

"Still …" Sara paused and bit her lip. "Would you like to come over for a bit? I thought we could … just sort of watch some tv and veg out."

"I'd love to," Grissom replied. "Is it all right if I come a little later?"

"I suppose. Why?"

He smiled apologetically. "I promised Brass and Catherine I'd go out for drinks with them. Catherine thought we'd earned it after this case, and, to be honest, I'm thrilled she's still willing to drink with me."

Sara grinned. "Yeah, go. Come over whenever. You know me; I'll be up till tomorrow morning."

"Well, it makes sense to stay on schedule, regardless of what time we leave work."

"I suppose."

He smiled and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "I'll call when I'm on my way, okay?" he said quietly.

Sara nodded. "I'll see you soon?"

"Definitely."


	19. Relaxation

A/N: This is a little sappy, but I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. I hope you enjoy it, too!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 515, "King Baby."

* * *

_Relaxation_

Grissom walked into their "usual" bar in the Bellagio – the one he, Catherine and Brass had visited on two other occasions – to see that Catherine had already arrived and found a table. He crossed to join her.

"Hi," he said, sitting down.

"Hello," she smiled. "I just told the waitress I was waiting for someone. She should be back in a minute."

As if controlled by Catherine's thoughts, the waitress appeared at their table. They placed their orders – a cosmopolitan for Catherine and a scotch on the rocks for Grissom – and she disappeared again.

"So, what do you think?" Catherine asked. "Weirdest case ever?"

"In recent memory, at least," Grissom said. "I'd never heard of infantilism before."

Catherine looked at him for a moment and smiled, shaking her head slightly. "You can't wait to go home and research it, can you?"

Grissom smiled, conceding her point. "Don't you find it intriguing?"

She shook her head. "I find it disturbing."

Their waitress returned, setting their drinks down in front of them. Catherine smiled and raised her glass.

"Shall we toast?"

Grissom smiled back and raised his own glass. "To wrapping our case."

Catherine chinked her glass against his. "To wrapping our case," she echoed.

"It's been fun, hasn't it?" Grissom asked as they took their first sips of their drinks.

"What? Being freaked out by the lifestyle of our vic?" Catherine smiled.

"No, that wasn't what I meant," Grissom smiled.

"What did you mean, then?"

"I've enjoyed working with you," Grissom explained.

"Which part?" Catherine asked a bit sarcastically. "The part when I got in your face or … uh … the part where I lost evidence … or maybe you just missed me?"

"I did miss you," Grissom replied. "I missed your passion and your tenacity." He glanced down as he raised his glass to take a drink. "I even missed your tush."

Catherine nearly spat out her drink as she laughed. "Really?" She laughed again. "Thank you."

Grissom smiled at her and sipped his drink.

"Sorry to interrupt," Brass said as he approached their table. "Did I miss the punch line?"

"Yeah," Catherine said, looking at Grissom in surprise.

Grissom smiled at her, obviously trying not to laugh. Every once in awhile, he loved to throw a comment like that at Catherine just for the sake of freaking her out. It was fun.

Brass sat down, and their conversation turned to the case. They talked about who would take the fall for Bruce's murder for a few moments – Brass pausing long enough to order a beer – before their conversation shifted to the idea of a grown man acting the part of a baby. Brass found it amazing that someone as powerful as Bruce Eiger would be reduced to "crawling around in a playpen." Grissom's opinion was the he had so much power that he was free to relinquish it.

"But … diapers?" Catherine asked incredulously.

Grissom shrugged. "Why not?"

Catherine looked at him as though he had lost his mind.

"Where would you go if you had the connections and the cash to go anywhere you wanted?" Grissom asked.

Catherine shook her head in disbelief, momentarily beyond words.

"Well, I hear Fiji's nice," Brass said.

"Eiger went farther," Grissom said. "He went all the way back to his childhood."

"Yeah," Brass said. "I think I'll take Fiji."

Catherine laughed, regaining her powers of speech. "Come on, Grissom. You can't honestly think that what Bruce Eiger did was normal."

"What is 'normal,' Catherine?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. It wasn't socially acceptable, then."

"I don't think even he would argue with that," Grissom replied. "Think of the lengths he and his wife went to to hide his secret life."

Brass and Catherine looked at each other in disbelief. Grissom had always been accepting, but this was truly over the top.

"Gil … tell me you aren't planning to start wearing diapers," Catherine said.

"No," Grissom replied. "Not yet, anyway."

Catherine laughed again and Brass shook his head.

"You know, your tolerance for the socially deviant never ceases to amaze me," he said.

Grissom shrugged. "They're the ones who make us normal. Without them, we'd have no way to tell ourselves that what we're doing is right."

"That's what I love about this guy," Brass grinned. "He always makes me think."

"Someone has to, Jim," Grissom smiled. "It might as well be me."

"Well," Brass chuckled. "At the very least, this case brought us all back together again. That was nice, wasn't it?"

Grissom looked at Catherine, who smiled slightly.

"It was very nice," Grissom replied.

"We work well together," Catherine admitted.

"We always did," Grissom said.

"Yeah," Catherine agreed. She smiled and took a sip of her drink. "I think learning to work together again, though, is a little strange."

"Agreed."

"I think you two are talking in code," Brass laughed. "Make your points already."

"We understand one another," Grissom replied.

"And we're fine," Catherine said, smiling at Grissom.

He smiled back and raised his glass to her. "Thank goodness."

* * *

Sara sat curled up on her couch, idly flipping the channels on the tv. She was rather glad that Grissom had delayed their evening together – it had given her time to prepare for his arrival. Her immaculate apartment had been tidied, snacks had been procured, and she had spent far more time than should have been necessary choosing a casual, lounging outfit. She was finally ready, and finally felt free to sit down and wait somewhat patiently.

Fortunately, he didn't keep her waiting long. She hadn't even settled on a show to watch when her phone rang. She picked it up, grinning as she read his name on the display.

"Hello," she said cheerfully.

"Hi, Sara," Grissom replied. "I'm just leaving now, so I'll be at your place in about twenty minutes. Is that okay?"

"Perfect," she said.

"Can I bring anything over?"

"No, just bring yourself."

He grinned. "I think I can handle that. I'll see you soon."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

Sara hung up the phone, still grinning. Even though it had only been a few hours since they had said good bye, she could hardly wait to see him again.

* * *

Grissom snapped his phone shut and returned it to its place in his cup holder. He couldn't believe how excited he was to see Sara. It had only been a few hours ago that he had held her hand and promised to visit later. How could he possibly miss her so much in such a short period of time?

He already knew the answer to that question. He was falling for her.

What had begun as attraction the day she walked into his seminar had morphed into infatuation as he got to know her better. That infatuation had shifted into genuine feelings as they had begun to date. Now, only a few weeks into their undefined, private relationship, he realized that he was starting to feel something deeper. Maybe not love just yet … but, certainly, its not-so-distant cousin.

The idea was jarring, to say the least. Grissom couldn't remember ever feeling anything like this for another person. The truth was that he had never let himself get as close to anyone as he was to Sara. He had never let anyone get so close to him.

The idea of calling her his girlfriend, though appealing, was a bit terrifying. Admitting that she was his girlfriend was admitting that he had let her fully into his life. Admitting that he had let her into his life like that was admitting that he was relinquishing control.

After spending so many years in complete control of his life, he wasn't ready to start giving it up. Not yet. But … maybe … someday.

For now, spending time with her was enough. He accelerated slightly as the thought crossed his mind. He couldn't wait to do that.

* * *

Twenty minutes after ending their phone conversation, Grissom knocked on Sara's door. Grinning madly, Sara jumped up from the couch and hurried to greet him. She swung the door open and gave him a beaming smile.

"Hi," she said.

Grissom didn't respond verbally. He stepped just inside the apartment, and, taking her face between her hands, kissed her. The kiss took Sara's breath away; it was a moment before she was able to respond and kiss him back. As she did, her hands found their way to his jacket, crushing the material between her fingers.

Several moments later, Grissom finally broke the kiss and smiled at her. He rested his forehead against hers for a moment.

"Hi," he smiled.

Sara giggled. "Did you miss me?"

"What do you think?"

She grinned. "I think you should actually come in so that I can close the door."

"Yeah, that might be a good idea," Grissom laughed, flushing slightly as he stepped fully into Sara's home. "I guess we gave your neighbors quite a show."

"I'm sure they enjoyed it," Sara laughed, shutting the door. "Pervs." She turned to smile at him again. "Can I get you anything?"

"Just you," he smiled, leaning in to kiss her again.

Sara smiled against his lips and reached up to wind her arms around his neck. They broke apart and she looked at him with starry eyes.

"I can't believe this is real," she whispered.

"What?" he asked.

"You … in my apartment … kissing me …" She smiled and bit her lower lip. "I never let myself believe that it would really happen."

Grissom kissed her forehead. "Believe it, sweetie, because it's really happening."

"Finally." She pulled away and took his hand. "Come on. I have such plans for you!"

Grissom laughed. "How exactly should I take that?"

"In the most innocent way possible," Sara grinned. "We're finally going to do something that I've been promising for ages."

Grissom tried to remember an unfulfilled promise, but drew a mental blank. "Okay. You've got me. I have no idea what you've been promising but haven't done."

She rolled her eyes. "How did I know you'd forget? We're going to watch _Will and Grace_!"

"Oh, right," Grissom said with dawning understanding. "Your favorite show."

"Right," Sara agreed happily. "Sit down … and get ready to laugh."

Grissom sat down as directed and waited while Sara fiddled with the DVD player. Once the opening credits were finally beginning to roll, she joined him on the couch. He looked at her, then at the empty space between them, then back at her.

"What?" she asked.

"You're awfully far away," he teased.

Sara laughed and slid across until her right side was touching his left. "Better?"

"Much," he said, resting his hand on her thigh.

She giggled and laid her head on his shoulder.

The show was funny, and Grissom had to admit that he liked it. But, what he liked best about the evening was that Sara was curled up beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. He played with her hair, letting the soft strands slip between his fingers. She was right – he had never really let himself believe that he would be with her like this. Now that he was, he couldn't understand what had taken him so long.

"So, what do you think?" Sara asked as the first episode came to a close.

"I like it," Grissom smiled. "It's funny."

"Yeah," Sara agreed, sitting up to look at him. "After what we see at work, it's my escape." She gave him a playful smile. "_Someone_ told me that I needed a hobby that didn't relate to work."

"Well, that someone was very wise."

"Mm," Sara hummed. "I'm not sure. I think my new favorite hobby might just relate to work."

"Oh, really?" Grissom asked with a playful smile of his own. "And what might that new hobby be?"

Sara smiled at him. "Hanging out with my boss."

Grissom grinned. "Well, I'd have to say that _that_ particular hobby is perfectly acceptable."

"Good. Because I don't intend to give it up."

"Good," Grissom echoed, kissing the tip of her nose.

Sara giggled and snuggled down next to him again. "How was working with Catherine on this case?" she asked.

Grissom sighed, resuming playing with her hair. "Tough."

"Yeah. I thought it might be."

"Oh, really?"

"Mm-hm. When Greg and I got to the scene, the first thing Nick and Warrick told us was that you two were fighting."

He sighed again. "Catherine doesn't want to have me as her supervisor anymore," he said. "She feels that she's a supervisor in her own right now, and that she's won the right to run any investigation – even high profile ones like the death of Bruce Eiger." He shrugged. "I can't argue with that. But, we have to do what we're told to do. Ecklie wanted me to run the investigation, but she wasn't ready to accept that."

"Griss … don't you think that it was better that you ran it?"

"What do you mean?"

"She lost key evidence," Sara blurted out. "I know that she's a great CSI, and Nick and Warrick haven't complained about her skills as a supervisor, but that doesn't change the fact that she left her camera sitting out in the open."

"It was a secure scene. She should have felt confident leaving it."

"Would you have left your camera?" Sara asked bluntly.

"No," Grissom admitted reluctantly.

"I know that," Sara said softly. "I know that it worked out for the best in the end, but …"

"Yeah." He paused, thinking. "Have you lost professional respect for her? You know, after what happened between you two?"

Sara looked thoughtful. "No-o," she said at last. "Actually, I think that whole thing almost made me respect her more."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She showed that she wasn't willing to back down or to bend the rules just because I was upset." She sighed. "I'm sure she's a good supervisor. I just think you're a better one."

Grissom smiled, flushing slightly. "Well, thank you." He paused. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"It's not about Catherine."

"Okay," Sara smiled, knowing that he would want to change the subject when she started complimenting him. He truly was too modest.

Grissom paused again, trying to find the right words. This had been bothering him since the comment had been made, but he didn't want to upset her more by how he asked about it. "What Greg said … are you okay with it?"

Sara didn't even need to ask for clarification. She knew exactly what he meant. "Yeah," she sighed.

"I know that he didn't mean to hurt you …"

"Greg would never intentionally hurt me," Sara said firmly. "I know that. What he said … he doesn't know about my parents. No one does … except you. So, how can I be mad at him for talking about spouses killing each other? We do see it all the time at work, and it's not …"

Grissom pulled her even closer. "You're so strong, Sara. You don't have to be strong for me … not if you don't want to."

"It's not about being strong," Sara said. "Everything that happened was so long ago. I know that it's part of who I am, but it doesn't have to dictate every moment of my life. I'm not the scared little girl who clung to a social worker's hand anymore. I just … want to move on."

"All right," Grissom agreed, sensing that the topic was closed.

It was Sara's turn to change the subject. "Do you want to watch another episode?"

"Sure."

Sara smiled, and picked up the remote to make the next episode play. As the familiar theme music filled the room, she cuddled against Grissom, relishing the feel of his arms around her.

Grissom looked down at her and smiled. He was sure that there was no better way to fight the stress and tension of his job than this: to cuddle with Sara. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

She turned and smiled at him. "Hi," she said quietly.

"Thank you," he said just as softly. "This is the best remedy for a tough case."

She smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "I agree."

They grinned at each other for a moment, then snuggled back together, turning to watch the television. No more words were necessary. Just being together, cuddled up on Sara's couch, was enough.


	20. Teams and Leaders

A/N: Happy holidays! I had hoped to have this done before Christmas, but, alas, I had more to do to get ready for the holidays than I had thought. So, here it is for you now – supersized for your enjoyment! Consider it your holiday present from me with love.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue is taken from episode 516, "Big Middle."

* * *

_Teams and Leaders_

Grissom was lying on his bed with Sara beneath him, kissing her senseless. He pulled away from her lips to trail kisses down her neck. She giggled as his beard tickled her skin. Her hands slid from his shoulders down his chest, down his stomach … Her fingers unbuttoned his jeans, and her hand –

_Ring_.

Cursing, Grissom jerked in bed as he woke up. It took him a moment to realize that his cell phone was ringing. Cursing again, he picked up the offending object.

"Grissom," he nearly snapped into the phone.

"Hey, Grissom, it's Brass. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Grissom said, running his hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Jim. You woke me up."

"Well, I'm sorry, too," Brass replied. "I'm even sorrier to have to tell you that I need you to come in early."

Grissom groaned. "What happened?"

"I have a DB in the woods with a ton of insect activity. I know this should go to Catherine, but she's on a 4-19 across town. And, besides, you're the bug expert. Would you mind …?"

"Where should I meet you?" Grissom sighed.

After writing down all the necessary information, Grissom pulled himself out of bed and into the shower. It looked like it would be a long day.

* * *

Grissom was halfway to the crime scene when he realized what time it was. He wasn't going to be able to stay long; he needed to get back into town to start his own shift. Knowing that Catherine was working a different homicide, he pulled out his phone and pressed the speed dial number to reach Nick. It only rang twice before it was answered.

"Stokes."

"Hey, Nicky, I need a favor."

"What can I do for you?"

"Brass has me going out into the woods to take a look at a DB. I'm on my way now, but I just realized that I need to be back at the lab for the start of my shift. So, could you come out and take over for me?"

"No problem."

"Thanks, Nick. I'll start documenting and take care of all the insect identification, but then, it's all yours."

"You've got it," Nick agreed. "Where am I meeting you?"

Once the pertinent information had been relayed yet again, Grissom closed his phone. That had been easier than he had hoped.

Brass and David were both at the scene when Grissom arrived. Brass gave him what limited information he had while David worked on the body. Grissom moved in with David to start documenting the insects crawling on the body.

"Hide beetle," Grissom said, plucking an insect off what had been the unfortunate man's face. "This guy's been here at least two weeks."

David commented on the lack of identification in the victim's pockets; Grissom pointed out that blowing off his face would be counterproductive if he still had his driver's license. David, his job finished, stood up to leave.

"He's all yours," he said. He started to walk away, nearly running into Catherine. "Hey, Cath."

"Hey," she replied, closing in on the body. "Grissom."

Grissom looked up at her, recognizing the agitation in her voice.

"What's the deal? You're coming to my crime scenes before I get to them, now?"

"Weren't you on a 4-19 in north town?" Grissom asked.

"I guess you missed me," Catherine said, still annoyed.

"I'm just documenting, then I'm leaving," Grissom said, raising his hands for a moment before returning to taking pictures of the victim.

Fortunately, the body's rather advanced state of decomposition distracted Catherine. By the time Grissom was ready to leave, she was engrossed in her case.

"Oh, by the way, I called Nick in on this," Grissom said. "I didn't know you'd be here, and I knew that I'd need to get back to the lab to start my shift."

Catherine shrugged. "Okay. Thanks."

"No problem."

Grissom climbed back into his SUV, practically sighing with relief. He could understand where Catherine was coming from, but her fear that he was trying to usurp her position was starting to get to him.

All in all, he could hardly wait to return to the lab and the sanity of his team.

* * *

"Hello."

"Hey, Griss."

"Hi."

Sara and Greg both smiled up at Grissom from their spots at the table in the break room. He returned their smiles as he walked in with an assignment slip in hand.

"Just one case tonight," he said. "We have a DB at the Tangiers. Greg, you're coming with me to the scene. Sara, you're maxed out on overtime, so you're staying here until we come back with evidence to process."

"Right," Sara and Greg said in unison.

"You two really need to stop spending so much time together," Grissom laughed.

They looked at each other and grinned.

"So, Griss, where was the body found?" Greg asked. "Public area or guest room?"

Grissom consulted the papers in his hands. "Guest room," he replied.

Greg's face lit up. "What are the chances that this is a trick roll?" he asked eagerly.

"There's always a possibility," Grissom said with a shake of his head.

"He's been waiting for one since his first day in the field," Sara informed Grissom. "But, sadly, luck hasn't been on his side in that area."

"Well, Greg, who knows?" Grissom said, barely containing his laughter. "Maybe tonight you'll finally get lucky."

"It's about time," Sara said with an exaggerated sigh.

Greg grinned. "You don't need to make me sound like a perv, you know."

"Hey, Greggo, we just call them like we see them," Sara laughed. She stood up. "I'm going to work on some things from the last open case I have. I'll see you two when you're done at the scene."

"See you," Greg said cheerfully.

"Bye," Grissom said with a smile.

Sara gave him a smile, then left the break room. She was on her way to the DNA lab to check with Mia on some pending results she had when she noticed Nick in the layout room. Grinning, she ducked in to say hello.

"Hey," she said cheerfully from the doorway.

"Hey, Sara," Nick grinned. "How's it going?"

"Fine," she smiled. "You?"

"Busy," he replied.

"As always," Sara said, stepping closer to look at the clothes he had spread across the table. "What are you up to?"

"My vic was found in the woods without a face," he said. "According to Grissom and the bugs, he's been there at least two weeks. We're trying to identify him."

"Sounds like fun," Sara said. She frowned slightly. "Wait. When did Grissom have time to check out your bugs? He was here for the start of our shift."

"From what I got, Brass called him out to the scene because of all the insect activity. He also said something about Catherine being on a different case. Griss just stayed to document and play with the bugs, then he left to come back here and get you guys rolling. That's why he called me. So, I rushed over there, thinking that I needed to relieve him, and found Catherine already there." A look of slight annoyance crossed Nick's face. "Not that I mind working, or working with Catherine, but it's strange, you know? Why would he call me if she was going to take the case?"

"Maybe she needed help?" Sara suggested.

"Maybe," Nick said skeptically. "But, from what I got, it seemed like he didn't know she was going to be there." He sighed. "I know that I should be glad that Catherine finally got her position as a supervisor, but, really, I just miss the good old days when we all worked together on the same team."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "I miss that, too."

Nick's phone rang, interrupting their conversation. He picked it up and looked at the screen to read the incoming text message.

"I've got to go, Sar," he said. "Doc Robbins has the body ready for me." He paused. "Can we talk more later?"

"Yeah," Sara agreed, surprised at his quiet insistence that they finish their conversation. "I'll be here all night. I'm maxed out on overtime yet again, so Grissom has me staying here while he and Greg go out into the field."

Nick grinned. "I'd expect nothing less of you."

"Whatever," Sara grinned. "Have fun with your body."

Nick laughed and shook his head. "I'll see you later."

* * *

"Hey, Sara, I have a project for you."

Sara looked up from the news that she had started watching to kill time and watched Greg walk to the break room with an evidence bag. "Oh?"

"Grissom wants you to process the sheets from our vic's bed."

"Okay," Sara said, taking the bag from him. She grinned. "So. Was it a trick roll?"

"Tragically, no. I've been denied the hooker roll yet again."

"Someday, Greg, you'll get to have the experience," Sara promised, nodding sagely.

Greg made a face at her. "Are you done mocking me?"

"Why? You have somewhere better to be?"

"Actually, yes," Greg replied. "I have to review the surveillance tapes from the hotel."

"Wait, before you do that, fill me in. What are you and Griss thinking so far?"

Greg smiled. "Our vic appears to have been suffocated after a night of intense sexual activity."

Sara raised an eyebrow.

"I'm talking _cracked table_ intense," Greg said.

Sara laughed. "There's a cracked table in the room?"

"Oh, yeah. Anyway, he was found on the bed, showing signs of asphyxia. I'm going to check the tapes to see who he was with at the hotel."

"Do we know why he was in town?"

"He was gambling, like almost everyone in those hotels, but he also had a convention ID. Vartann is looking into."

Sara nodded. "Okay. I'll see what I can find on the sheets."

"Have fun," Greg smiled.

"You know it."

* * *

"Okay," Grissom said, frowning as he looked over the notes he had taken, "here's what we know."

Greg and Sara, seated with him at the break room table, looked at their supervisor attentively. Folders were open in front of them as they worked to piece together what had happened to their victim.

"Maurice Hudson was found dead in his hotel room bed. The housekeep staff found him in the morning, but Doc Robbins says that he died overnight, probably between nine and midnight. The autopsy indicated that he died of compression asphyxia. Nothing heavy was found on or near the body, which suggests that the killer took it with him when he left. The only evidence on the body was a purple fiber."

"Hodges confirmed that it's silk," Sara spoke up. "The color is unique, but that's all he could tell me about it."

"Tell us about the sheets," Grissom said.

Sara nodded. "I found abnormally large sweat stains. Samples were collected and sent to DNA and Trace. I also found evidence of sexual activity; DNA confirms the semen was the vic's, and that he had a female partner, identity unknown."

Grissom nodded. "Surveillance tapes?"

"Nothing probative," Greg replied. "So far, I've followed the vic around multiple parts of the hotel, but he's always alone."

"Well, he was with someone at some point," Grissom said. "Aside from the evidence of a woman in his room, he didn't compress himself to death and then remove an extraordinarily heavy object from his own body."

Sara ran her hands through her hair and held it back from her face for a moment. "This case is maddening."

"The answers are there," Grissom said. "We just have to find them."

"We need another clue," Greg said.

As if on cue, Grissom's phone began to ring. He picked it up and flipped it open. "Grissom. … Okay. … Yeah, we'll meet you there. … Thanks." He snapped the phone shut again and smiled at his team. "Well, it looks like we may have your clue, Greg."

"What's that?"

"Mr. Hudson attended a convention at the Tangiers. Vartann has found which one. He says he'll meet us there."

Sara sighed. "Well, have fun without me."

"Aw, Sara, come on," Greg grinned. "You know it's never any fun without you." He got up from his chair and started to leave the room. "I'll meet you at the car, Griss?"

"Yes," Grissom agreed.

Greg left the room with a wave to Sara. She smiled back.

Grissom leaned closer to her. "He's right, you know. It _isn't_ any fun without you."

Sara felt her cheeks growing warm. "It hasn't been much fun without you, either."

He put his hand on her thigh. "We'll see if we can fix that later, okay?"

Sara grinned and put her hand over his, squeezing it gently. "We'd better."

Grinning, his own cheeks flushing slightly, Grissom reluctantly pulled his hand away and stood up to leave. "We'll call if we find anything interesting."

"What good will it do? I'm still stuck here."

He smiled. "Well, then, we'll bring all the exciting news back with us."

"Thanks," she said with a sarcastic smile.

Grissom chuckled and left. He and Greg had a date at a convention.

* * *

Vartann was waiting for Grissom and Greg in the lobby of the Tangiers when they arrived. He grinned at them.

"Hey, guys."

"Hi," Grissom replied.

"This way," Vartann said, leading them to the escalators.

"Is the convention still going on?" Greg asked.

"Oh, yeah," Vartann chuckled.

Grissom and Greg exchanged confused looks.

"This was probably the least taxing project I've ever had," Vartann said.

"Why is that?" Grissom asked.

"There's only one convention at the Tangiers this weekend," Vartann replied.

They all paused to stare at a woman wearing a convention nametag who was taking the opposite escalator up. She was overweight, and wearing a t-shirt that urged them to keep their opinions about her body to themselves. Vartann and Grissom both raised their eyebrows.

"It's the same nametag that was found on the victim's clothes," Vartann commented.

"Well, that does make it easier," Grissom said.

"Yeah," Vartann agreed. "Well, let's go join them, shall we?"

"What kind of convention is it?" Greg asked.

"An obesity convention."

Greg and Grissom both startled; their victim had been quite thin.

Vartann led them out to the pool area, where a crowd of overweight people was having a party. Grissom and Greg, ever the trained observers, looked around in interest.

"It's a 'hogs and heifers' convention," Vartann said quietly. He smiled slightly. "Hudson wasn't fat; what was he doing here?"

"Maybe he used to be," Grissom suggested.

"Or, maybe he was a chubby chaser," Greg offered.

Grissom looked at him in shock.

"Some men like curves," Greg shrugged.

"There's curves, and then there's _rolls_," Vartann said. "Look, have tons of fun. I have a murder-suicide across town."

Vartann left, and Grissom and Greg looked around for a moment, watching the party-goers.

"Something heavy killed our vic," Grissom said.

"Heavy object, heavy person," Greg said, wondering if anyone in this crowd would have the strength to lift something heavy enough to press Maurice Hudson to death.

"Pass this photo around the registration desk," Grissom said, handing Greg a blown-up copy of Hudson's driver's license. "Who knows? Maybe he did like big girls."

"Where are you going?" Greg asked.

Grissom grinned in the direction of the party. "I'm going dancing."

Chuckling slightly, Greg went back inside the hotel. Grissom moved into the crowd, pausing to ask several people if they recognized a picture of Maurice. While none of them did, his time wasn't totally wasted – one of the women was wearing a silk purple top under her black button-up. Noticing that his eyes were trained on her chest, she grinned up at him.

"See something you like?" she asked, reaching up to touch herself.

Grissom backed up slightly, holding up a hand as if to stop her advances. "I'm sorry. I … uh … I noticed your lovely purple undergarment."

"I bought it here at the convention, honey," she said.

"You did?" Grissom asked, pleased to have this bit of information. "Thank you."

He walked past her, his mind already jumping ahead to their narrowed field of suspects, when he felt the woman's hand connect with his bottom as she slapped him. He stopped and turned, staring at her in shock.

"Fat girl, gay guy," she said with a slight shrug. "It's not unheard of."

Grissom looked at her as if she had lost her mind. He left quickly, fearing that she might go further to act on her intentions toward him.

He went inside to the convention hall. He could see Greg taking notes as he talked to a woman near the message board. Knowing that his young colleague had that under control, he made his way toward the vendors.

After searching through the inventory at several different stands, Grissom finally found a display of purple silk lingerie. He was touching one of the garments to determine if it was real silk when the vendor joined him.

"That's some tickler you've got there," she said in a smooth, soft, seductive voice.

"Excuse me?" Grissom said, looking up at her and dropping the lingerie.

"You've got everything you need to please a woman," she said, touching her own chin.

"Do I?" he smiled. He glanced at her name tag, "Regina." He figured he might as well flirt along – it might help. "Um … can I ask you, is this silk or synthetic?" he asked, picking up the lingerie again.

"That's a hundred percent silk," she replied.

"How many sets of these have you sold?"

"Four pre-orders and another fifteen commissions," she said. "I even made a set for myself," she added, moving her blouse aside so he could see her undergarments. "Men _love_ purple."

"Do they?" Grissom asked eagerly.

"It's purple rain," she explained. "Prince … sexy … custom color," she informed him. "You want it for the wife?"

"I'm not married," he said simply.

"Girlfriend?" she asked.

"Nope," Grissom replied. He smiled to himself. Sara was still his private, undefined … all right, she was _nearly_ his girlfriend. But, when it came to chatting up women who were controlling evidence that he needed …

"You want one?" Regina asked, her voice turning husky.

"Yes, I do," Grissom grinned, winking at her. _And I've already got her all picked out_, he thought. "I'd also like copies of your customer receipts."

Regina looked at him in shock. "What?"

Grissom smiled. "I'm with the crime lab. We're investigating a homicide. The victim was found with purple fibers consistent with this," he lifted the lingerie again, "on him. I just need to know who might have been wearing this custom color. May I see those receipts?"

Regina straightened up. "You went through an awful lot with me to get that."

Grissom nearly laughed. "Believe me, I've done far worse."

She looked at him for a moment, then smiled. "I like you," she said. "I'll get your receipts. And, if there's anything else you need, let me know."

* * *

Regina's receipts led them to a relatively small pool of five women who had bought the lingerie and were in town when Maurice died. They were all summoned to the police station, where Sara was given the task of collecting samples of their DNA.

They weren't eager to give her anything, feeling that they were being discriminated against, but eventually gave in. Mia ran the tests and provided them with the names of two suspects: Brenda Morgan, who had admitted to Greg that she had seen the victim, but not that she knew him, and Regina Owens, Grissom's vendor friend.

"Okay," Grissom said as the women were settled in separate interrogation rooms. "I'll take Regina. We have a history."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

Grissom laughed. "I talked to her at the convention."

"Well, I talked to Brenda," Greg offered.

Grissom shook his head. "She's lied to you once already. Sara gets Brenda."

"Oh, all right," Greg sighed.

"Hey!" Sara exclaimed. "I haven't been allowed to leave the lab in ages. Let me have _some_ of the fun on this case."

Greg grinned. "As you wish, Sensei."

Sara laughed and Grissom rolled his eyes.

"Okay. Greg, get back to the lab and keep going on those tapes. Sara, I'll meet you out here when we're done."

"Right," they agreed together.

Grissom shook his head again. "Really, guys – spend some time apart."

Still laughing, they separated to complete their assigned tasks.

* * *

Grissom was waiting for Sara when she returned to the lobby. He raised his eyebrows at her and she shook her head.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied.

They walked out to the SUV they had driven over. Grissom opened the passenger door for Sara, closing it once she had sat down. She gave him a smile as he climbed in behind the steering wheel.

"Thanks," she said.

He smiled back. "You're welcome."

Sara let herself get lost in his eyes for a moment, knowing that he was as lost as she was. "We don't really need to get right back to the lab, do we?" she asked in a low voice.

"Where else would we go?" Grissom asked.

Sara ran her hand up and down his thigh. "We really wouldn't have to leave this car."

"Saraaaa," he whispered.

"What?" she whispered back, leaning across the center consol, stopping with her lips nearly touching his.

"Someone could see us," he said, drawing back from her. He reached down to put his hand over hers, squeezing it. "I want to kiss you right now so badly, but, Sara, we just …"

"Can't," she sighed.

"Yeah."

Sara withdrew her hand and turned in her seat so that she was facing front again. "Damn job."

Grissom laughed as he reversed out of the parking space. "If it weren't for this job, we never would have met."

"Fair enough," she grinned.

He sighed. "We have to be careful, you know."

"I know," she said. "I really do. I don't want to do anything that could lose either of us our jobs."

"Or break up our team," Grissom added. "We're treading a delicate line here, Sara. We've got to make sure that no one finds out what we're doing, or we're going to have a lot of problems."

"I know," she said again. She bit her lip. "Are you sure about this? In the end, Griss, I think it's your career on the line more than mine. Are you sure this … relationship … is a good idea?"

Thankful that they had come to a stop sign, he turned to look at her. "I'm sure that this is the best idea I've come across in years."

Sara smiled, flushing slightly. "Me, too."

Grissom turned into the parking lot and parked the car in its assigned space. "Shall we?" he asked.

"We shall," Sara grinned.

As they climbed out of the car, the teasing flirtation was gone, replaced by the calm comparison of notes from an interrogation. Grissom held the door for Sara as they entered the lab, but that wasn't unusual; he always held doors for her and for Catherine.

"So, what did Regina tell you?" she asked.

"She admitted to having sex with the vic," Grissom replied. He grinned. "Greg will be excited to know that she was the one who helped him break the table."

Sara giggled.

"She said that she got there around seven, stayed long enough to have sex, and then she left. Allow me to emphasize that she claims to have left the victim _alive_."

"Well, that tallies with what Brenda told me," Sara said. "She said she knew that he had been with another woman. She went into his room after Regina had left."

"Hm."

"She also says that she killed him."

Grissom stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"

"Well, don't get too excited," Sara said. "Brenda Morgan is claiming that she smothered the victim to death with a pillow."

"He wasn't killed with a pillow," Grissom said. "COD was compressed asphyxia."

"She admits guilt, but she's hiding _something_," Sara said.

"Maybe she's covering for someone else," Grissom suggested.

"We know that Regina Owens was in the room," Sara said. "She claims that she left the victim alive, and Brenda is backing her up …"

"Yeah," Grissom said incredulously, "but she's a liar."

"At least we're down to two suspects," Sara said.

Grissom smiled. "Why don't you go make sure of that?"

"Huh?"

"Go join Greg in the A/V lab. See if you can make sure that the ladies entered and left his room at the times they said they did."

"I'm on it," Sara said.

* * *

Sara joined Greg, who was glad to have the company, in the A/V lab as promised. They watched as the ladies met on the elevator – as Greg pointed out, it must have been rather awkward.

"What time did she leave?" Sara asked as they watched Brenda step off the elevator.

"Spent the night," Greg replied slightly disbelievingly. "She didn't leave till the next morning." He turned to look at Sara, who looked back with equal disbelief.

"Doc Robbins ballparked the victim's death at sometime between nine pm and midnight," she said.

"That means she slept with a dead guy!" Greg exclaimed. "She's not only a killer, she's a necrophiliac. That's what I call enjoying your work."

"Hold on, hold on," Sara said, struggling not to laugh. "Back up the tape, please."

Greg ran the tape back until Brenda was alone on the elevator again.

"There," Sara said. "Stop."

Greg stopped rewinding, and they watched as Brenda stumbled around the elevator.

"She's trashed," Sara said. "Maybe she passed out."

"How drunk do you have to be to sleep next to a decomposing body?" Greg asked. "The smell alone is an alarm clock."

"Not next to him," Sara said, turning to look at Greg, "_on_ _top_ of him."

Greg turned to meet her eyes. "Wait … are you saying …?

"Yes," Sara said. "Hang on. I want to run this by Grissom."

Sara jumped out of her seat and hurried out of the room. She walked to Grissom's office, where he was seated at his desk.

"Hey," she said, knocking on the open door.

"Hi," he smiled. "Come in."

"I have a theory," she said without preamble.

"Okay. Let's hear it."

"I think Brenda was very, very drunk when she went to the vic's room," Sara said. "I think she did have sex with him, but then passed out on top of him. I think _she's_ the heavy object that caused the compressed asphyxia."

Grissom took off his glasses. "Well," he said slowly, "we'll need to prove that it's possible."

"How?" Sara asked.

"First, see if you can get enough sweat from the sheets to run a tox screen. That will prove that she was intoxicated."

"Okay," Sara agreed. "But, I'm guessing there's more."

"Oh, there's more."

"And that would be …?"

Grissom grinned. "Weights, a dummy, a pulley … and Greg. Go find him and meet me in the garage. Oh, and … make sure he puts on coveralls."

Sara grinned back and returned to the A/V lab to get Greg. Experiments like this were why she had so much fun at work.

* * *

By the time Sara and Greg made it to the garage, Grissom had already found a mattress. A dummy was lying on it, attached to a pulley.

"Good, you're here," he smiled. "Sara, do you want to help me with these weights?"

"Okay," she agreed, picking up one to strap into place.

"Okay, okay, wait," Greg said. "I think I can see where this is going, and I don't like it."

Sara laughed. "Come on, Greg. Where's your scientific curiosity?"

"I think I left it behind when I decided I wanted to live long enough to leave work today," Greg said. "You two aren't serious, are you?"

"We need to prove Sara's theory, Greg," Grissom said. "You're about the same height, weight and build as the vic. It's a perfect way to find out what really happened to him."

Greg sighed. "And there's nothing I can say that will convince you that asking Nick or Warrick to help with this is a better plan?"

"Nope," Sara grinned. "Tell you what. If you'll be a good sport and play along with my experiment, I'll buy you a drink after shift. Deal?"

"Oh, all right," Greg agreed reluctantly.

"One more weight," Grissom said.

Sara nodded and strapped another weight in place.

"How much does this thing weigh?" Greg asked, watching nervously.

"Two hundred and forty pounds at the moment," Grissom said. "We'll increase the weight incrementally until you can't move."

"I can't lift that," Greg said. "And, if I can't, you can't," he added, pointing at Sara. He looked at Grissom, who was passing just behind him. "This is a safety issue."

"Well, that's what the pulley is for, Greg," Sara said. "So, relax and lie down on your back."

Greg looked up at the pulley for a moment, then crawled onto the mattress. "You know, this is exactly like a dream I had once," he said, looking up at Sara. "Except … it wasn't in a garage. And, Grissom wasn't watching."

Sara struggled not to laugh.

"That was a different dream," Greg added.

Sara nearly had to bite her cheeks to keep from laughing at that.

Grissom used the pulley to lift the dummy, taking care to make it backhand Greg as he pulled it into place. The idea of Greg having _those kinds_ of dreams about Sara made his blood pressure go up ever so slightly …

He settled the dummy on Greg, who groaned slightly.

"How does it feel, dreamer?" Sara asked.

"Like two hundred forty pounds of pure woman," Greg replied.

"How's your breathing?" Grissom asked.

"Limited," Greg said, shoving the dummy off and sitting up.

"Okay, add another forty pounds," Grissom said.

Sara nodded with a wink. She strapped another weight onto the dummy while Greg lay back down on the mattress.

Grissom moved the dummy over Greg again, who exhaled what must have been most of the air in his body. Grissom and Sara talked about his position and its consistency with the victim's for a moment, until Greg began to wave his free hand madly.

"Hey – guys – help," he gasped.

"Oh," Grissom said, pulling the dummy off him.

"Two hundred eighty pounds," Grissom said as Sara directed the dummy away from Greg.

"Brenda's just shy of three," Sara said.

"Well, I'm glad we've proven your theory," Greg said, sitting up and massaging his chest. "Now, about that drink …"

"After shift," Sara promised. "I need to do an interrogation."

* * *

When confronted with all that Sara now knew about her level of intoxication and the manner in which Maurice Hudson had died, Brenda admitted the truth. She had indeed passed out on top of Maurice, accidentally killing him. She swore that she had invented her story about smothering him to save face. She told Sara that she would rather go to jail than to become the subject of so many jokes.

Sara left the interrogation feeling terrible about Brenda. She would find the DA later and ask for leniency – and privacy. But, that would have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, she owed Greg a drink.

Sara found Greg in the break room with Nick and Warrick. His face lit up when she walked in.

"Hey! These two want to come with us. Is that okay?"

"I love it," Sara smiled. "I just need to tell Grissom how my interrogation went, and I'll be ready to go."

"We'll meet you in the parking lot," Nick said.

Sara nodded and left for Grissom's office. He smiled as she walked in.

"How did it go?"

"She admitted that we were right," Sara said. "She gave me that other story because it was less humiliating. I'm going to ask the DA to be kind."

Grissom nodded. "It shouldn't be a problem. It's not a high-profile case."

"I'm hoping you're right."

He nodded again. "So, are you leaving?"

"Yeah. I owe Greg a drink."

Grissom smiled. "Well … if you get bored with Greg, give me a call."

Sara raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Is that an invitation?"

"Yes. Will you come over later?"

She nodded, her cheeks growing warm yet again. "I'd like to."

"Good. Give me a call when you leave Greg."

"I will," she promised. "I'll see you soon."

He smiled. "I'll be waiting."

Sara left Grissom's office with a grin on her face. She hoped that she looked more in-control when she got to the parking lot, where Nick and Warrick were fighting over who had to drive.

"You lost, Warrick," Nick laughed. "Scissors beat paper, okay? You're driving."

"What's wrong?" Sara asked.

Greg laughed. "Nick and Warrick are fighting over who has to play 'sober sister' tonight."

"I'll do it," Sara said. "Drink your hearts out, boys."

"Are you sure, Sara?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," she said. "But, someone else is driving my drunken ass home next time."

"Fair enough," Warrick grinned. "Thanks."

"No problem."

They all climbed into Sara's Prius, and she drove them to their favorite local bar. They found a booth immediately. The guys ordered beers and Sara asked for a Coke. The waitress gave her a sympathetic look.

"Stuck babysitting tonight?" she asked.

Sara grinned. "Looks like."

The waitress gave Nick, who was seated beside Sara a stern look. "You should let your girlfriend have some fun."

"Oh, he's not –"

"She can have fun next time," Nick grinned, putting his arm around Sara.

The waitress shook her head and left, and Sara turned to look at Nick.

"I'm your girlfriend now, am I?"

Nick grinned. "Why not? Don't you remember all the Elvises who were willing to marry us?"

Sara laughed. "I'm sorry, but I don't date guys who would be willing to let Elvis marry us."

Nick laughed and withdrew his arm. "Believe me, darlin', I'd give you the best wedding ever."

Sara flushed slightly and shook her head as the waitress returned with their drinks.

"Well, let's toast," Warrick said, raising his bottle. "To drinking together, even if we aren't really a team anymore."

They chinked their glasses together and took sips. Sara glanced at Nick who sighed.

"Sara and I were just talking about that earlier," he said.

"About what?" Greg asked.

"About the fact that we aren't a team anymore," Sara said. She smiled sadly. "I miss working with you guys."

"We miss you guys, too," Warrick said.

"But, it's not just that," Nick said. He paused. "I love Catherine, and we all know that, right?"

A murmur of general assent went up from the group.

"Well, it's just …"

"Spit it out, Nicky," Sara urged.

Nick sighed. "I don't know how to say it. It's almost like she feels like she has to compete with Grissom to be the best boss."

"What?" Greg frowned.

"I can see that," Warrick said thoughtfully. "You know, I think this move to supervisor would have been easier for her if she hadn't taken us with her."

"Why?" Sara asked.

"It makes her feel like she's in constant competition with Grissom," Warrick explained. "She knows that we were 'his' first, and she thinks that we're spending all our time comparing her to him. She's already told me at least twice that she's not Grissom."

"He's right," Nick agreed. He took a drink of his beer. "She made some comment to me earlier … asked if I liked having her as my boss. I pretty much blew her off, but I think she's …"

"Insecure," Greg offered.

"Yeah," Nick agreed.

Sara sighed. "Isn't there any way we can fix this? I know Griss hates fighting with her, and he's not loving the attitude she's taking with him right now."

As soon as the words were out, Sara mentally cringed. She had certainly made it sound as if she and Grissom regularly had deep conversations about work and their relationships with coworkers, and their feelings about both. While this was, of course, true, it was not something that her coworkers needed to know. However, none of the guys reacted to her statement. She was silently thankful for the mentally-dulling effects of beer as Warrick responded to her question.

"I don't think there's anything we _can_ do," he said. He grinned. "Well, except for telling Ecklie to give us our team back."

"Yeah, _that's_ going to happen," Greg laughed. "He's always on the look-out for ways to make us all miserable."

"Well, he succeeded in breaking up our team," Sara sighed. She grinned at the men at the table. "But, at least he didn't break up our friendship."

"Look at you, girl," Warrick grinned. "You're going all sappy on us."

Sara grinned back. "You guys are like my brothers," she said. "Nothing Ecklie does will ever change that."

* * *

They stayed at the bar long enough for the men to all drink themselves into a state of being unable to drive. It was fun for Sara, who was amused by their grandiose plans to get the team back together, which ranged from Greg's suggestion of killing Ecklie and making it look like an old Vegas mob hit to Warrick's plan of having Grissom play Ecklie at poker.

"What good will that do?" Nick laughed.

"Winner gets to decide the teams," Warrick declared. "Grissom can just kick Ecklie's ass at cards and then pick all of us to be on his team again."

"Lovely, Warrick," Sara laughed. "I suddenly feel like I'm in middle school all over again."

Finally, they agreed to call it a night. Sara drove each of the guys home, staying long enough to make sure that they made it inside safely. Finally, after seeing Nick to his door, she called Grissom to tell him that she was on her way over.

She could hardly wait to see him.

When Sara finally rang Grissom's doorbell, he and Hank were both eager to greet her at the door. She laughed at the sight of them, giving Hank a pat on the head and Grissom a long kiss.

"I've been waiting to do that for _hours_," she sighed when they finally pulled apart.

"Me, too," Grissom grinned, kissing her again. "I'm glad you came over."

"Like I'd turn you down," she grinned.

"Well, come in," he said, leading her into the living room. "Can I get you anything?"

"I just came from a bar," she laughed. "I'm good."

"Has Greg recovered from his near-death experience?"

Sara laughed. "It's amazing what a little Sam Adams can do for a man."

Grissom sat down on the couch, pulling her down with him. "I'm glad you two are friends," he said.

Sara looked at him for a moment, sure that something other than happiness at her friendship with Greg was lurking behind his eyes. Suddenly, it came to her. "Are you mad about what Greg said?"

"About what?" Grissom asked.

"About having sex dreams about me," Sara clarified.

"We have no control over our subconscious," Grissom said a bit stiffly.

Sara looked at him, a slow smile spreading across her face. "You _are_ mad!" she exclaimed.

"I'm not," Grissom argued.

"Yes, you are!" she laughed. "You're getting all jealous!"

Grissom sighed. "You and Greg work together very closely," he said. "Of course, he'd be dreaming about you."

"And, that's all he'll ever do," Sara said firmly. "Greg is like my little brother, Griss. I know that he used to have a crush on me, but I think we're both way past that. I … I love him the same way I love Nick and Warrick." She kissed his cheek. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Good," Grissom smiled.

Sara looked at him. "Tell me about your relationship with Regina."

"What?"

"Regina Owens, the suspect in our homicide," Sara said. "You said that you had had a relationship with her."

"Oh, that," Grissom laughed. "Well, she was a bit … flirtatious … when I met her at the convention."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Did she hit on you?"

Grissom laughed. "Do you know how many women hit on me today?"

Sara grinned at him. "Counting me?"

He smiled at her and wrinkled his nose. "Smartass."

"Pretty much," she grinned. She snuggled down next to him. "So, are you trying to tell me that those convention women are my competition?"

He laughed. "Well, I can certainly tell you that one of them thinks I'm gay."

Sara popped back up to look at him, already laughing. "What?"

"One of them seemed to feel that we would be good together – a fat girl and a gay guy."

Sara laughed even harder. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Grissom grinned and leaned forward to kiss her. After several long moments, he pulled away. "What do you think?"

Sara grinned. "I think I might need a bit more convincing."

Grissom grinned and kissed her again.


	21. An Olive Branch

A/N: Ah, winter break. So conducive to writing. I'm only sad that it will end on 2 January and force me back to work. Enjoy these frequent updates while you can!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 517, "Compulsion."

* * *

_An Olive Branch_

Sara was bored.

There was no other way to describe her complete inability to find anything to do in her apartment that would entertain her. She had already caught up on the journals she had to read, she had flipped through the tv channels twice, she had checked her email about ten times, she had read the newspaper …

She was bored.

She glanced at the clock and sighed. Three more hours before she had to be at work. She was, of course, ready to go – getting dressed in work appropriate clothing had long-since been used as a way to fight her boredom. At this point, it was all a matter of waiting.

Thinking that she'd called Mary to ease her boredom, she picked up her cell phone. To her surprise, it started ringing in her hand. Maybe Mary, in a moment of psychic brilliance, was calling her. She flipped the phone open without looking at the caller ID display.

"Sidle."

"What are you up to?"

Sara grinned at the sound of Grissom's voice. "Thinking about you," she said in a sing-song voice.

Grissom laughed. "No, seriously, are you busy?"

"No. Why?"

"I just got a call for a homicide at the Four Aces hotel. Wanna meet me there?"

"Sure," Sara agreed. "I can probably be there in half an hour."

"Perfect."

Sara couldn't dim her smile as she flipped her phone closed and got up to leave for the hotel. Even though it was to work a homicide, she couldn't wait to see Grissom.

* * *

The crime scene certainly was not pleasant. A flight attendant had been brutally raped and murdered in her hotel room. Strangely, her clothes and suitcase were missing from the room. The only theory was that the killer had taken them with him as a memento to remember the attack. He had been very methodical about his crime; every surface was wiped clean of blood or fingerprints. Even the drains were clean, though a wad of hair found in the bathtub drain tested positive for blood.

"This one isn't going to be easy, is it?" Greg asked as he and Sara walked through the lab. They had long-since returned from the crime scene, and were taking a break from processing evidence.

"I doubt it," Sara sighed. "Maybe we'll get lucky, though."

"Grissom says there's always a clue. We just have to find it."

Sara's phone beeped, and she picked it up. A text message from Grissom directed her to his office. She sighed.

"Speak of the devil."

"Grissom wants you?"

She nodded. "I'll be in his office if you need me."

"See you."

Sara left the path she and Greg had been taking and headed straight for Grissom's office. He was on his way to the door when she walked in.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked with a smile.

"I need you to do something for me," he replied.

"Anything."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Oh, no," Sara said, her eyes widening. "You're not going to put a three hundred pound dummy on me, are you?"

"No, nothing like that," Grissom smiled. "Though, now that you've pointed it out, you might prefer the dummy …"

"What do you need, Griss?" Sara sighed.

"I need you to go meet Ecklie in the layout room."

"What?" Sara screeched. "Why?"

"I don't know. He just paged me and asked me to meet him there … something about the current case."

"So, why aren't you going?"

"I have to meet Brass right now to go over all the notes from the crime scene and the interviews."

"And Brass can't wait?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, Brass is a busy man," Sara conceded. "But, Grissom, come on. Ecklie _hates_ me."

"Ecklie is a professional," Grissom said firmly. "You know as much about this case as I do, Sara. We went over the autopsy report together, and you were with me the whole time at the crime scene. There's no one I trust more than you to relay our findings."

"Stop trying to flatter me," Sara sighed. "Griss, you know what happened the last time I was alone with Ecklie …"

"Which is why you need to do this," Grissom said. "You can't avoid the man for the rest of your career, Sara. You need to face him and start to repair your professional relationship."

Sara looked at him incredulously. _Grissom_ was preaching to her about office politics?

"Look," he sighed, "you know I don't play these games well. But, Sara, I want you to learn from my mistakes. Maybe, if I had been a bit more conscious of my professional relationship with Conrad years ago, I'd still have my team together. Maybe, if I'd played my cards right all along, you and I would be able to see each other outside of work without fearing for our jobs. I don't know. All I do know is that you need to try to do something to fix your relationship with Ecklie. And, the best time to do that is when you're both distracted with a case. You'll be too consumed with work to worry about hating one another."

Sara gave him a half-smile. "Okay, fine. I'll go."

"Good. He's waiting."

She sighed and turned to leave Grissom's office. "I suppose I'll be grateful for this someday," she called over her shoulder.

The sound of Grissom's laughter followed her out the door.

* * *

Sara drew a deep breath as she approached the layout room. She finally stepped forward, stopping in the doorway. Ecklie was busy spreading photos across the lit table.

"Ecklie, what's up?" she asked a bit nervously.

He glanced at her in surprise. "I paged Grissom."

"And he paged me," Sara said, walking into the room. "How can I help?"

Ecklie, who seemed annoyed that he was dealing with Sara instead of Grissom, began to talk as he continued to place crime scene photos on the table. "Five years ago, there was this day shift case – homicide," he began.

Sara moved closer, looking at the photos.

"The victim was a flight attendant named Sue Stein from Palo Alto, California," Ecklie said. "She was raped and murdered in a local hotel. Killer never apprehended."

Grissom had been right about one thing: As she and Ecklie compared the two cases, their nervousness, anger and annoyance melted away. They were both focused on the case.

The longer they talked about the cases, the longer she looked at the photos, Sara knew that they needed to find something bigger than the clue Greg had been seeking. They needed to find a serial killer.

* * *

After talking to Ecklie, Sara was sure that they were beginning a case full of twists, turns, dead ends and frustration. To her great surprise, it turned out to be exactly the opposite.

When their first suspect turned out to be innocent, information from Hodges and Mia led them to another. Hodges informed them that the hair from the drain had been doused in a bleach that contained a cedar additive, while Mia discovered that their killer had had a vasectomy which was later reversed. Armed with this information, Grissom and Brass returned to the hotel.

They found themselves in the general manager's office, talking with him and with the executive housekeeper about the bleach used in the hotel. Lucy, the executive housekeeper, explained that she added cedar chips to the hotel's bleach to make it smell nicer. Only the housekeepers – who were all female – used the bleach. While Brass continued questioning her, Grissom found his eyes drawn to the pictures on the Mr. Michaels' desk. One showed him with two young adults, presumably his children, and another showed him, a younger woman and a baby. The distance in their ages was interesting … and, very telling.

"Are those your kids?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah," Mr. Michaels smiled. "Two eldest are at UNLV."

"And the baby?" Grissom asked.

"Jake. Jake is six months old," he smiled.

"Is that your second wife?"

"Mm-hmm."

"So, you must have had your vasectomy reversed," Grissom commented, watching him carefully.

"Why are we talking about my vasectomy?" Mr. Michaels asked, looking politely confused.

"You also have access to the bleach, so you won't mind if I take a DNA sample," Grissom said.

Mr. Michaels sighed. "Look. If word leaks out that you took my DNA and I'm a murder suspect, I will never work in hospitality again. I'm sorry, but the answer's no. Anything else?"

"We'll be in touch," Brass said as the two men stood to leave.

Brass didn't speak again until they had passed through the double doors and into the parking lot. He glanced at Grissom, who looked pensive.

"You thinking he's our guy?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," Grissom said, putting on his sunglasses, "he's our guy. We just need to find a way to prove it."

* * *

"Okay," Grissom said, sitting down at the break room table with Sara and Greg, "here's what we know. Hayden Michaels has access to the hotel's bleach, which contains the cedar additive that Hodges identified coating the hair from the drain. He also had vasectomy which was later reversed, which would account for the antibodies Mia found attacking the sperm collected from the victim. What we need is a DNA sample to prove that it's Mr. Michaels' semen."

"Can't we get a court order for a sample?" Greg asked.

Grissom shook his head. "Evidence isn't firm enough yet. It could be argued that the hair is coated in hotel bleach simply because it was found in a hotel drain."

Greg sighed. "Do you want me to follow him around like I did the last guy?"

Grissom smiled. "No, but thank you for offering."

"Wait," Sara said. "Wait."

"What?"

"The victim's suitcase is still missing, right?"

"Right," Grissom said slowly.

"What if … Mr. Michaels still _has_ it?"

"If we're not getting a court order for DNA, we're certainly not getting a search warrant," Grissom said.

"I don't think we need one," Sara said.

Greg looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "Um, Sara …"

"No, listen," she said excitedly. "We could bring him in for interrogation. While he's with Brass, one of us could bring in a suitcase identical to the victim's. If he's guilty, he'll recognize it and panic. If not, he won't react. What do you think?"

"It could work," Grissom said, giving her a smile. "Let's add one more thing, though."

"What?"

"Sound equipment. Put something in the suitcase that will record his reaction."

Sara smiled. "I'll call the airline to get the suitcase, then have Archie help me with the audio."

"I'll get Brass to bring our suspect in for questioning," Grissom said.

"What do I do?" Greg asked.

Grissom glanced at his watch. "Sofia should be here any minute. Can you update her on the case?"

"Sure."

"Okay, then. Let's get to work."

* * *

It only took one phone call to Western Airlines to have the suitcase Sara needed delivered to the lab. The airline was quite eager to do all it could to help in the investigation into the death of one of its flight attendants. Archie, too, was eager to help.

"This is so cool," he said as he packed the recording equipment into the suitcase. "I feel like I'm part of a sting operation."

Sara smiled. "Wanna come with me to see if it works?"

His eyes lit up. "Can I?"

"Sure. I don't think Grissom will mind you leaving the lab for a little while."

"Oh, this is so cool," Archie said again.

Sara laughed at his repetitiveness. "Okay, Joe Cool, let's head over to PD."

* * *

When Sara and Archie arrived at PD, Mr. Michaels and his attorney, Adam Matthews, were already in the interrogation room with Grissom. Sara led Archie to the observation room. They stood in silence for a moment, listening to Grissom describing the mental processes of a serial killer.

"What's Grissom doing?" Archie asked.

"Messing with him," Sara grinned. "He's telling him what we have in very theoretical terms, hoping that he'll confess."

"Does that work?"

"Rarely."

Archie chuckled. "Leave it to Grissom to take the path of most resistance."

"You see," Grissom said, "what differentiates a psychopath from a heat of the moment killer is _forethought_. And, you've thought about this for a long time."

"That's my cue," Sara said, gripping the handle of the suitcase. "Grissom's closed his theoretical argument. Time to give them some hard 'evidence.'"

"Good luck," Archie said.

"Thanks," Sara smiled.

"Thank you," Adam said as Sara opened the door, "for the fascinating seminar, but you have no evidence, so we are free to go."

Sara walked into the room pulling the suitcase behind her. "Actually, I have some evidence."

She lifted the suitcase onto the table, watching the sheer panic that took over Mr. Michaels' face.

"What is this? What's going on here?" he asked.

Sara situated the suitcase on the table and put her hands on top of it. "Mr. Michaels?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She can't … you can't do that," he said in disbelief, shaking his head.

"Do _what_?" Adam asked, clearly shocked by this turn of events.

"No, I know my rights," Mr. Michaels said, shaking his head more vigorously.

"Hey, hey, shh, shh," Adam said, starting to panic along with his client.

"The bitch broke into my car!" Mr. Michaels yelled.

Sara looked from Mr. Michaels to Grissom, who looked at her for a moment before turning back to face their suspect.

"I don't remember seeing a warrant, Ms. Sidle," Adam said.

"I don't have a warrant," Sara said. "I was following a hunch."

Adam turned back to Grissom, looking utterly shocked at what Sara had done. "Well, then, you just set my client free."

"On the contrary," Sara said.

Grissom looked up at Sara with undisguised pride before turning back to the two men across the table from him.

"Western Airlines issues this exact type of wheelie to all its flight attendants," Sara explained. She looked straight at Mr. Michaels as she spoke, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Since Martha's wheelie wasn't in the hotel room, we thought maybe the killer took it as a souvenir. This particular suitcase," she said, pausing to unzip and open it, displaying the sound equipment Archie had installed, "is not Martha's wheelie."

Mr. Michaels looked at the suitcase in shock, while Adam smiled slightly. He had to acknowledge that Grissom and Sara had done a phenomenal job of outsmarting him and his client.

"And, now that we know where to find it," Grissom said, "and we have your client on tape, I betcha we'll get a warrant." He turned to Mr. Michaels and gave him a rather smug smile. "Thank you."

Adam sighed. "Are we done here?"

"For now," Grissom said. "Mr. Michaels, I think you'll need to go with this officer."

He sighed and nodded. He and his attorney left the room together with a police escort, and Archie ran in.

"Sara, that was awesome!" he exclaimed, hugging her.

Sara laughed happily as she hugged him back. "I could never have done it without you, Arch. You really pulled it all together for us."

"Hey, Archie, who let you out of the lab?" Grissom asked with a touch of annoyance in his voice.

Archie immediately released Sara and turned to face his boss with something akin to fear on his face. "Um …"

"I did," Sara said. "I wanted him to come along, since he had done so much to help me. That's okay, isn't it, Griss?"

Grissom sighed. "Yeah, it's fine. You did a great job with the audio, Arch."

Archie smiled again. "Anything for you guys."

"So, I hear you used a rather unconventional method to get results."

All three of them looked up to see Ecklie walk into the interrogation room. Sara and Grissom looked at each other for a moment with raised eyebrows.

"Conrad," Grissom smiled. "News does travel quickly, doesn't it?"

"I talked to Sofia and Greg," he said. "They filled me in on your plan to catch our serial, and I wanted to come over to see how it ended."

"Well, it has ended," Grissom said. "We'll get our search warrant and collect the suitcase from his car. After that, a DNA sample will be easy. And, then," he smiled. "he's done."

"It was a little dangerous, what you did with that suitcase," Ecklie said. He smiled. "Dangerous, but impressive. I'm glad that it worked."

"It was Sara's plan," Grissom said. "Archie helped her out with the audio, but she was the mastermind."

Ecklie looked at Sara with a bit of surprise and … was that admiration? "Well done, Sara," he said.

"Thanks," she said in surprise. "I was just doing my job."

"You were doing it very well," he said. Looking a bit uncomfortable, he clasped his hands together for a moment before releasing them. "Okay, well, I'm headed back to the lab. I'll see you all later."

"Right."

He left the room. Sara, Grissom and Archie all looked at each other in shock.

"Wow," Archie said, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen, "wonders never cease."

* * *

By the time they had returned to the lab and filled out all the necessary paperwork, the day shift was starting to arrive. Grissom saw Greg and Sofia walking past his office; he called a "good night" to them. The techs began to walk past, too, all on their way home. He frowned as he realized that he had not seen Sara – and that he really, really wanted to see her. Maybe she would have time to have breakfast with him … Smiling, Grissom pulled out his phone and called her.

"Yes?" she said by way of answering.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"In the locker room."

"Do you have plans?"

"Just to pick up my purse," she giggled.

Grissom smiled. "How about coffee? We haven't done that in ages."

"I'd love it. Should I meet you at the café?"

"Perfect."

Grissom snapped his phone closed and smiled to himself. Time alone with Sara sounded wonderful.

* * *

"So, what brought this on?" Sara asked as she sipped her coffee.

"I wanted to see you," Grissom replied.

She smiled. "You've seen me a lot recently. We _have_ been working a case together."

"You know what I mean."

Her cheeks flushed slightly. "Yeah, I do. I wanted to see you, too."

He smiled.

"I also wanted to thank you," Sara continued.

"For what?"

"For making me go talk to Ecklie."

Grissom grinned. "I knew you'd be grateful."

"You were right," she sighed. "Working a case somewhat together made me … I guess it started me on the road of having some professional respect for him again. Not a lot, of course, but _some_."

Grissom laughed. "Well, it's a start."

"Seriously, though, thank you."

Grissom looked at her deeply, his eyes caressing hers in a way that made her feel as though he were kissing her. "I'm proud of you."

Sara smiled back, maintaining eye contact even as her cheeks turned bright red. Nothing that Ecklie had said to her earlier could possibly mean more to her than that one phrase from Grissom.


	22. Mentoring

A/N: Well, like I said, break is conducive to writing. Truly, though, this chapter practically wrote itself. If only they all were so easy …

I hope you like it! Thanks for taking the time to read my story.

Happy New Year!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 518, "Spark of Life."

* * *

_Mentoring_

"So, what are you up to after shift today?"

Sara grinned at Greg. "You mean, assuming we get out on time?"

"Naturally."

She laughed. "Nothing, I suppose. Why?"

"I was thinking … maybe we could convince Nick and Warrick to come out for breakfast with us," Greg said.

"You're assuming I'll go to breakfast with you?"

Greg gave her his winning smile. "Who could resist this face?"

Sara laughed again. "Okay. If we get to leave on time, I'm in."

"What if we don't get to leave on time?"

"Then I'm going home and going to sleep."

"Fair enough," Greg grinned.

"Okay, team, we've got a busy one," Grissom said as he walked into the break room. "Sofia's off tonight, so it's just the three of us."

"So much for breakfast," Greg sighed dramatically. "Griss, what's up with you giving Sofia the night off?"

"I don't know, Greg," Grissom sighed. "Maybe I was feeling generous, considering she's worked ten days in a row. Don't worry; she'll be back tomorrow."

"Ouch," Greg replied.

Sara laughed.

"Okay, Giggles, you're coming with me," Grissom said, glancing at her over his glasses.

"Where are we going?" Sara asked.

"Forest fire," Grissom replied.

"I'm guessing not natural causes?"

"That would be a no."

"Fun, fun," Sara said, getting up from her chair.

"I know," Grissom said. "As an added bonus, they've found a charred body."

"Well, I do love a nice, quiet evening," Sara said with a sarcastic smile.

"I'll meet you at the car," Grissom said. He turned to Greg. "And, you, Mr. Comedian, are going to wait here…"

"I know, I know," Greg sighed. "I'll process the evidence once it comes in." He glared at Sara. "You always get to have all the fun."

Sara shook her head. "Don't you remember the week I was locked up in the lab while you, Grissom and Sofia got to have all the fun?"

"I suppose," he sighed. "But, that was your own fault for maxing out on overtime."

She laughed. "I'll see you later, Greggo."

* * *

"You're awfully cheerful," Grissom commented as he steered their SUV onto the highway.

Sara smiled. "Well, it's all your fault."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Seeing you makes me happy."

Grissom smiled, his cheeks flushing. "Seeing you makes me happy, too."

Sara grinned and leaned across the center consol to kiss his cheek. Grissom gasped and just stopped himself from swerving into the next lane.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" he asked.

Sara laughed. "Sorry. You're too kissable."

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "You're lucky I'm driving and have to keep both hands on the wheel … I might have to punish you later."

"Oo," Sara giggled. "Sounds like fun."

Grissom laughed. "You will be the death of me." He turned to her briefly and smiled. "But, I'll die happy."

Sara smiled, unsure of what to say.

* * *

Grissom and Sara finally arrived at their scene. Because of the danger of fire, they had to leave the SUV what felt like miles away and walk to get there.

"Well, at least I can say I've got my exercise in for the day," Sara said as they walked.

"You're beautiful as you are," Grissom said. "Don't try to exercise to change your body."

Sara smiled, flushing a brilliant shade of red. "So are you," she said.

"Yeah," Grissom laughed. "An old, chubby man. Very attractive."

"I think so," she said quietly. She smiled. "I think you're hot."

He turned to look at her, his face a shade of red that rivaled hers. She smiled wider.

"I'm serious," she said.

"I know," he said in wonder.

He stopped walking, and she stopped with him.

"What?" she asked.

He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

He was off and walking again before Sara had time to react. She found herself hurrying to catch up.

They finally arrived at the site of the fire, where they were met by the fire chief, Rick Dysart.

"Well if it isn't my two favorite CSIs," he grinned. "Find any more houses that I need to detonate?"

"Not recently," Grissom replied. "How are things going here?"

Rick gestured up the hillside, where firefighters were still working to contain the blaze. "We're getting it," he said. "Your body is just over here."

They followed him a few yards until he stopped in front of a charred body. They all crouched down to look at him. Sara pulled out her camera to start documenting while Grissom shone his flashlight up and down the body. As of yet, the coroner had not arrived; they had to be hands-off.

"Local homeowner called it in early," Rick said. "We got it contained pretty quick. We were lucky."

"Luckier than he was," Grissom acknowledged as he picked up the eyeglasses that were lying next to the body. "Low humidity, dry brush … perfect conditions for maximum damage."

"The firebugs listen to the weather reporters just like we do," Rick said. "Only, for different reasons."

"Maybe some moron just threw a cigarette out the car window," Sara suggested.

"You're an optimist," Rick said.

Sara turned to look at him and he gave her a half smile. She smiled back before turning her attention back to the body.

"Do you have a point of origin?" Grissom asked, standing up.

"Not yet," Rick said, standing up with Grissom. "Fire spread down the slope. Probably started along top of the ridge. I'll give you a shout when it's safe to come up."

"Okay, Mom," Sara said.

Rick gave her an amused smile, then picked his way up the hillside to join his men.

"This area was always a good place for stargazing," Grissom said, looking up at the sky.

"It's a good make out spot, too, so I've heard," Sara said in an almost off-hand way.

Grissom glanced down at her and raised an eyebrow. "Noted."

Sara grinned up at him, and he winked at her.

"I'm going to go look around."

"Okay," she replied, snapping another picture of the body in front of her.

Grissom walked away from Sara, shining his flashlight at the ground as he walked. He stopped as it illuminated two very charred feet. He stepped closer, running the light up and down the body. His heart sank.

"Sara," he called, shining the flashlight on the victim's face, "we've got another body."

The victim's eyes slowly opened, staring up at Grissom. His heart jumped into his throat.

"Get the paramedics!" he yelled.

Sara jumped up, dropping her camera – thankfully, next to the body rather than on it – and grabbed her phone. She tapped the button to talk to dispatch. After requesting paramedics, she ran across to join Grissom.

"My God," she whispered, staring at the burned, charred body. What little skin remained was burned black and firey red. "How could anyone live through something like this?"

"Strong will," Grissom said.

Sara bit her lip, staring down into the open eyes of their victim. "Is there anything we can do?"

"I – I don't know."

"Is she in pain?"

Grissom shook his head. "I'm fairly certain she's beyond the pain by now."

"Thank goodness."

The paramedics had barely left the scene after doing what little they could for the first victim; they were back in record time. Even they couldn't hide the pain in their eyes as they tended to the new victim.

"What are her chances?" Grissom asked.

One of the paramedics shook his head. "I'll be impressed if she makes it to the hospital," he said.

Grissom nodded grimly. "Okay. Thanks."

Sara shook her head. "What a horrible tragedy."

"Yeah." Grissom pulled out his phone.

Sara looked at him curiously. "Who are you calling?"

"Greg. He needs to go to the hospital to collect trace from our new victim."

"Lucky Greg."

"Well," Grissom said as he listened to the phone ring, "he did want to get out of the lab."

* * *

Once the first body had been transported back to the morgue and they had been given the all-clear, Grissom and Sara climbed their way to the top of the hill. They walked slowly along the road as they searched for possible sources of the fire. Sara still held out hope that it had been accidental; her hope was dashed when she found part of a charred lighter. Grissom found a smashed and burned bottle of vodka; the two together provided an excellent way to start a fire.

"Well, the lighter's toast, but we might be able to get some prints from this bottle," Sara said.

Grissom chuckled.

"What?" she asked a bit defensively.

"'The lighter's toast,'" he repeated. "Cute pun."

Sara made a face. "Oh, man, that was so unintentional."

Grissom grinned. "I think I'm rubbing off on you."

Sara laughed. "Okay, exactly how much innuendo did you intend to put into that comment?"

Grissom winked at her. "As much as you'd like to take from it."

Sara stared at him in shock.

"Okay, let's bag this stuff and get back to the lab. I want to see what Greg managed to get from our second vic."

Sara nodded, still a bit dumbfounded by his casual attitude. She smiled to herself. She liked this flirty Grissom.

* * *

Grissom and Sara walked into the lab carrying their evidence. They were greeted by Judy, who gave them a sad smile.

"Hello," Grissom smiled.

"Isn't it sad?" she asked.

"What?" Grissom frowned.

"That that poor woman's still alive."

Grissom and Sara looked at each other with wide eyes.

"You don't mean that woman we found at the scene of the fire?" Grissom asked.

"She's still alive?" Sara gasped.

"Didn't you know?" Judy asked. "Greg came back from the hospital with her burned clothes and told us."

"Oh, my God," Sara half-whispered. "He – I –"

"I've got it," Grissom said. "You start printing that bottle. I'll talk to Greg."

Sara nodded dumbly and took the evidence bags from Grissom's hands. She watched as he nearly ran down the hall to the layout room.

"Do you think she'll be all right?" Judy asked.

Sara shook her head. "No," she said honestly, "I don't."

Grissom stopped in the doorway of the layout room, where Greg was extracting something from the victim's scorched pocket.

"I hear our victim is still alive," he said.

"I don't see why," Greg replied without even looking up.

Grissom half shrugged as he stepped into the room. "Well, she's not ready to let go yet."

"A plastic card," Greg said as Grissom looked at the item he was attempting to salvage. "I found traces of alcohol all over her clothes. She was doused in it."

Alcohol all over her clothes … a broken bottle of vodka at the point of origin … It all came together in Grissom's head, and the final picture wasn't pretty.

"The accelerant and the probable ignition source were found at the top of the hill," he said.

"That was the point of origin," Greg nodded.

"But, the victim was found, almost completely burned, at the _bottom_ of the hill," Grissom continued. "I don't think she was caught in the fire. I think she started it."

"What, you think she was actually _set on fire_?" Greg asked in disbelief. "Like some sort of human flame thrower?"

"Yes."

Greg's face fell. "Oh, man."

Grissom looked at him closely. "Are you okay, Greg?"

"Yeah," Greg said, swallowing hard, "yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay," Grissom said a bit incredulously.

Greg swallowed again. "I'll process this card and see if I can get an ID from it."

"I'll check with Mia and see if she's gotten anything from her DNA," Grissom said. He started to leave the room, but paused in the doorway, turning back to Greg. "Greg …"

"Yeah?"

Grissom gave him a small smile. "You're doing a great job."

"Yeah," Greg sighed. "Thanks."

* * *

Sara managed to get a print from the vodka bottle, which led her to a trucker who had been passing through the area where the fire started. After tracking his movements using the trucking company's GPS, she discovered that he had stopped right around the site of the fire an hour before the emergency crews were called. She also learned that he had visited a local gas station shortly before that. After viewing the station's surveillance, she saw that he had had a woman – presumably their victim – in his truck.

She and Vartann questioned the trucker, who adamantly denied that he had done anything with their victim other than to give her a ride. When Sara proposed that he had doused her in vodka and set her on fire, he demanded a lawyer.

"Well, that got us far," Sara sighed as she and Vartann left the interrogation room.

"Hey, it got us her sweater," Vartann said. "Shouldn't you be excited about that?"

Sara smiled. "Yeah, sure. I can hardly wait to get back to the lab to start processing."

Vartann chuckled.

Sara's phone rang. Smiling an apology to Vartann, she answered it.

"Sidle."

"Hey, Sara, it's me," Grissom said.

"Hi," she said, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

"Listen, Greg got an ID from the license he found in the vic's pocket. Her name is Tara Matthews. We're going to talk to her husband now."

"How's Greg?" Sara asked, regretting that she had not yet found the time to talk to him.

"He's hanging in there," Grissom said.

"Is he up for talking to the husband?"

"I think so."

"Okay. I'll see you both when you get back to the lab."

"See you then."

Sara snapped her phone closed and looked at Vartann. "Our Jane Doe has a name," she said.

He raised his eyebrows. "How did you pull that off? DNA?"

"Nope. She had her license in her pocket. Greg processed it into giving a name."

"Wow," Vartann smiled. "You scientists do impress me sometimes."

Sara laughed. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

* * *

"Listen, Greg, this isn't going to be easy," Grissom cautioned as they pulled up at the Matthews' house.

"I didn't think it would be," Greg replied.

Grissom sighed. "What I'm trying to say is, I know this will be tough for you, but I wouldn't have asked you to come along if I didn't think you could handle it."

Greg looked at him for a minute. "Does it get easier? You know, once you've told a few people that their loved ones are dead?"

"No," Grissom said simply. He opened his door and got out of the car.

Greg shook his head and followed his boss into the house.

Telling Neil Matthews that his wife had been in a life-changing accident was difficult, to say the least. His first request, as Grissom had anticipated, was to see her.

"Of course," Grissom said gently. "I can drive you over –"

"No," Greg said suddenly, cutting Grissom off. "If it's all right, I'd like to take Mr. Matthews to see his wife."

Grissom looked at him for a moment. "Are you sure, Greg?"

"Yes," Greg said. "I … I know my way around the hospital now." He lowered his voice as he continued, "Griss, I really want to do this."

"All right," Grissom agreed. "Mr. Matthews, would it be all right if Greg took you to the hospital?"

"Yeah – sure – whatever …"

Greg nodded and took the keys that Grissom held out to him. "Follow me."

Grissom watched as the two men left together. He wanted to smile. Greg impressed him a little bit more every day.

* * *

"Hey," Grissom said, walking into the evidence vault, where Sara was labeling the victim's sweater.

"Hi," she smiled. "Where's Greg?"

"He took Mr. Matthews to the hospital to see his wife."

Sara raised her eyebrows.

"I offered, but he wanted to."

"Okay," she said.

"How did it go with our trucker?"

"He denied everything, of course."

"Of course," Grissom replied. "What's that?"

"Victim's sweater. I found it in the truck."

"Well, that doesn't exactly speak to innocence."

"Yeah."

"Hey, guys."

"Warrick!" Sara exclaimed as he walked into the evidence vault. "Shouldn't you have gone home yesterday?"

"Ha, ha," Warrick said. "She's a funny one, Griss. You've got a stand up comic working for you."

Grissom smiled. "You're on Catherine's case?"

"Yeah," Warrick acknowledged. "It's a tough one. We have an entire family who was killed."

"Whoa," Sara said. "What happened?"

"Mom and Dad were shot in what at first glance appears to be a murder-suicide, and the daughter drowned in the pool."

"You don't believe it's a murder-suicide?" Grissom asked.

Warrick shook his head. "It's too … I don't know. It just doesn't feel right."

"Go with your gut," Grissom nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "We'll see what the evidence says, right?"

"It never lies," Grissom acknowledged. He glanced at his watch. "Greg should be back form the hospital. I'm going to go see how he's doing."

He left Sara and Warrick and started his slow progress around the lab, searching for his newest CSI. He found Greg sitting in the layout room, staring into a sealed evidence jar.

"How did it go at the hospital?" he asked as he entered the room, stopping right next to Greg.

"About as well as could be expected," Greg replied. "Doctors had to amputate the fingers from the right hand – too great a risk for infection. They gave them to me to process for trace."

"You've pulled a double, Greg," Grissom said, seeing that Greg had finally reached his breaking point. "You need a break. I'll process."

Greg looked up at him questioningly, and Grissom nodded encouragingly. Greg sighed and pulled back from the table.

"Thanks."

Greg left the room, and Grissom took his spot at the table. He opened the first jar and extracted the finger. Using a magnifying glass, he found the last thing he had expected to see: small pieces of plastic consistent with the lighter Sara had found at the scene were imbedded in her finger.

"Whoa," he whispered. This put an entirely new spin on the case.

* * *

"Sara, do you have a minute?"

"Sure," Sara said, stopping to talk to Sofia. "What's up?"

Sofia inclined her head to the left. "Can we talk in here?"

"Of course," Sara said with a slight frown. She followed Sofia into the ladies' room.

Sofia checked every stall to make sure that they were alone, then turned to face Sara again. Sara raised an eyebrow.

"Classified information?" she asked.

"Sort of," Sofia said. She sighed. "Have you … talked to Greg recently?"

"Honestly, I haven't seen him all day," Sara said. "I know he's been spending a lot of time on his own …"

"Yeah, well, I think you need to change that," Sofia said. "I just saw him in the locker room. He's not handling this case well."

Sara's eyes widened with concern. "What?"

"You know how it is when you have your first live victim," Sofia said. "And, for that victim to have third degree burns over eighty percent of her body …"

"Right," Sara said, understanding Sofia's concern in a minute. "Have you talked to him?"

"Briefly," Sofia said. "I tried to help him out, but … I really think he needs you."

Sara flushed slightly and smiled.

"He really looks up to you," Sofia continued. "I know that you mentored him, but I've never seen a mentor / mentee relationship quite like the one you two share. It's … a very special bond."

"Yeah," Sara said. "I don't take it for granted, believe me."

"Good."

"And, I'll take care of Greg. I promise."

"I knew you would," Sofia said. She moved to leave the restroom.

"Sofia, wait," Sara said.

Sofia stopped and turned to face her. "Yes?"

"Thank you for telling me," Sara said. "I really …"

"Yeah," Sofia said, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Me, too."

* * *

"Hey, Sara, I need you," Grissom said.

Sara stopped in her tracks yet again. "Is it urgent? I'm looking for Greg."

"Yes, it's urgent," Grissom said, grabbing her arm to steer her toward the break room.

"What's going on?" Sara asked.

"It turns out that our arson victim was sleeping with the husband in Catherine's case," he said. "Our cases have merged into one. We need to go over the files with Catherine and Warrick."

"Right now?"

"Right now."

Sara sighed. Apparently, she'd have to wait a little longer before she had the chance to talk to Greg.

* * *

It was a convoluted tale that required plenty of arm-twisting from Brass, but the whole story came out in the end. Neil, the husband of the arson victim, had been best friends with Morgan, the husband in Catherine's case. The two families had always been close. Tara had a special affection for Dani, Morgan's daughter. She desperately wanted a child, but, unfortunately, she and Neil were unable to conceive.

But, Corrine, Morgan's wife, found a solution.

Tara began sleeping with Morgan for the sole purpose of conceiving a child. They kept it from Neil; Tara intended to pass the baby off as his.

Then, Neil found out.

In a blind rage, he shot his best friend. He shot Corrine, who ran into the house to see what was happening, to keep her from calling the police. Dani was an oversight. She had been playing in the pool under her mother's supervision until Corrine ran into the house. Left alone, she accidentally drowned.

It was Tara who discovered Dani's body. Neil had called her to Morgan's house. Upon seeing all that he had done – all that she had caused – she told Neil that neither of them deserved to live. She left him alone, and attempted suicide.

Somehow, Tara and her unborn child managed to survive the horrible tragedy. Maybe Grissom was right: She just wasn't ready to die.

* * *

Finally done for the night, Sara made her way to the locker room. Greg was sitting on a bench, staring into his open locker.

"Hey," Sara said.

He looked up at her listlessly. "Hey," he echoed.

Sara sat down next to him. "Rough night?"

"You could say that."

She looked at him closely. "You're letting it get to you, aren't you?"

"How can I not?"

"Okay," Sara said. "That's it. I'm taking charge."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on," Sara said, standing up.

"Come on where?" Greg asked.

"Out," Sara said, holding out her hand to pull him to his feet.

Greg shook his head. "Sara, I really don't think I'd be much fun right now."

"That's exactly why we're going out," she replied. "I refuse to let this suck the fun out of you. Come on, Greg! We'll go hit a bar and we'll relax." She sat back down again and took his hand. "I'm not saying that you have to be fun tonight. I just want us to go out right now so that we both know that you'll be fun again another night."

He finally gave her a small smile. "Okay."

She grinned. "Let's go. I'll even be sober sister again, despite the fact that it's not my turn."

Greg rolled his eyes. "You're too good to me."

"I try."

* * *

They selected a table in the back of the bar, hoping that it would be a bit quieter. Once they had drinks, Sara turned gentle eyes to Greg.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"What's to talk about?" Greg asked. "I had to process a live body."

"Yeah," Sara said. "It's not fun."

"How did you react your first time with a live body?"

Sara sighed at the memory. "I ended up in tears in Grissom's office."

Greg's eyes widened. "How did he take that?"

"He told me that I needed a distraction. That I was letting myself get too caught up in my work."

"And? Did you find one?"

"Not immediately," Sara admitted. "It takes some time to get over being a workaholic."

"But, you have one now?"

"Yes," she smiled, "I have one now."

Greg looked at her closely for a minute, but let it go. "How … how did you get the image out of your head? How did you forget what it was like to process a _person_ instead of a body?"

"I didn't," Sara said. "I'm sure I never will. But, you know what, Greg? I think it made me better at my job."

Greg looked at her incredulously.

"I know, it sounds weird, but … for me, the human element is always the hardest. I don't find it necessarily _easy_ to deal with people. I think I'm better with bodies, you know? But, when you have to do something like process a live victim, it sort of … puts it all into perspective. It helps you to remember why we do this. It's not just about the science; it's about the people. About helping them. About finding justice for them. About helping them and their families find peace."

"It gives the bodies life," Greg muttered.

"Exactly," Sara said. She reached across the table and squeezed Greg's hand. "I know that you're tough and that you'll get over this," she said. "But, Greg, if you want the truth, I hope that you never forget it. I hope that it gives your job meaning."

"Yeah," he said. He shook his head. "Okay, you've given a great pep talk, but can we please talk about something else?"

Sara smiled. "Too much?"

"No," Greg said honestly. "It was perfect. I just … think it's time to start getting over it."

Sara's smile widened. "There's the Greg I know and love."

Greg smiled. "I always knew you'd admit your love one day."

Sara laughed. "Platonic love, Greggo."

"Damn," he smiled. He took another drink of his beer. "Sara …"

"Yes?"

"Your distraction … is it, by chance, a man?"

Sara's face immediately turned a deep red, and Greg grinned.

"Who is he?"

"Uh-uh," Sara shook her head.

"What?" Greg exclaimed. "No details?"

"Nope," Sara said.

"Aw, come on, now! You told me about Hank!"

"No, you found out about Hank through some shady connection," Sara grinned. "If it had been up to me, no one in the lab would ever have known about Hank."

"Why are you so secretive?"

"It's called a _private_ _life_ for a reason, you know."

Greg made a face. "God, that is so Grissom of you."

Sara shook her head, but avoided his eyes. Greg's eyes widened slightly. Could Sara and Grissom …? No, that was ridiculous. There was no way that Grissom was the man who had become Sara's distraction. Was there? Time to try to weasel more information out of her.

"So, you're really not going to tell me?"

"I'm really not going to tell you."

Greg sighed. "What if I told you that information about your private life was the only thing that would save me from a severe depression brought about by the horrible case we just wrapped?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "I'd never believe you. Nice try, though."

"You're being mean."

"Look, Greg, this whole relationship is all really new right now," Sara said. "I just … I don't want to jinx it by talking about it."

"Sara, it's a romantic relationship, not a pregnancy."

"And, it's none of your business. You're as bad as Nick and Warrick."

"Fine, keep your secrets," Greg said. "You'll tell me someday."

"Maybe," Sara smiled. "Someday."


	23. Crossing Boundaries

A/N: Well, we'll start with the bad news: I'm back at work now. Today was my first day post-break. So sad! But, the good news is that this chapter was already nearly done and that the next one is partially done.

With that said, though – January is always a tough month for me. Our semester ends at the end of the month, so I'm usually up to my ears in paperwork and finals. I'll do my best to stick to updating every weekend with an occasional weekday update thrown in. We'll see how it goes!

Thanks for reading and reviewing, and especially for your patience this month! You're the best!

Ming1, this chapter is dedicated to you. I think it has some of the scenes you've been waiting for:-D

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 519, "4x4." I also don't own the _Simpsons_ or Neosporin.

* * *

_Crossing Boundaries_

After fulfilling her duties as "sober sister" and driving Greg home, Sara turned her car in the exact opposite direction from her house. Right now, she didn't want to be alone. And, there was only one person that she wanted to be with.

She rang the bell, hoping that he was still awake. Thankfully, he was; although she had to admit that he looked surprised, yet pleased, to see her standing on his doorstep.

"Hi," Grissom grinned, opening the door with one hand while holding Hank back with the other.

"Hi," she echoed as she closed the door behind her and patted the dog.

"What brings you here?"

Sara didn't answer him verbally; she merely reached up and put her arms around his neck. Surprised, Grissom wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her to him tightly as she buried her face in his neck.

"Sara, are you all right?"

"Yeah," she said, drawing back to look at him, "yeah. I'm just a little …"

"Yeah," Grissom repeated, understanding what she was trying to say. "Cases like this can do that to you."

She nodded, casting her eyes down.

"Hey," Grissom said, reaching out to tip up her chin. "You know better than to let this get to you, don't you?"

She nodded again. "Yeah … I just … I guess I just didn't want to be alone right now."

"Good," he smiled. "I'm always happy to spend time with you."

Sara finally smiled, and leaned up to kiss him. Grissom smiled against her lips before deepening their kiss, pulling her even closer. She clung to him and kissed him back as his hands began to move up and down her back and across her sides.

Suddenly, she pulled back, jumping in his arms as she squealed. Grissom looked at her in alarm.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm ticklish," she said with an apologetic smile.

"Really?" Grissom replied, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Where?"

Sara smiled, but bit her lip and shook her head. "No. I'm not going to tell you."

"Well, then, I'll have to find out on my own," Grissom grinned.

"No!" Sara yelled, laughing as she ran away from him.

Grissom laughed, too, as he began to chase her around his townhouse. He finally caught her, pinning her down on the living room floor.

"Let's see," he murmured. "Where might Sara be ticklish?"

"No," she laughed.

He grinned. "Neck?"

He nuzzled her neck, letting his beard tickle her. Sara smiled.

"Not really … but that does feel good …"

He grinned and looked back up at her. "Okay, then. Stomach?"

His hands slid down and across her stomach. Sara giggled, trying to twist away from him.

"Good to know," Grissom grinned. "Sides?"

As his hands moved to her sides, Sara twisted more violently, giggling madly.

"Stop!" she gasped.

Grissom grinned. "Knees?"

His hands slid down further, running over her kneecaps and around to the backs of her knees. Sara giggled again, her feet kicking at him.

Grissom laughed. "You, my dear, are too much fun."

She laughed with him. "You just like to tease me."

"Oh, yes, I do," he said in a low voice. "I also seem to remember promising you a punishment for nearly making me wreck our department-issue SUV. So …"

"No," Sara grinned, seeing the light in his eyes.

"I'm afraid, darling, that it's the only way."

"No!" she exclaimed, fighting the laughter that bubbled up and spilled from her lips.

"Yes," Grissom grinned.

He attacked her with his hands, hitting all her ticklish spots. Sara shrieked and struggled against him, trying futilely to free herself. Finally, she managed to gasp out his name, grabbing his attention.

"What?" he asked, his hands stopping their delicious torment.

She reached up and kissed him soundly. He pulled back and grinned at her.

"Stop using your diversionary tactics."

"No," she grinned, kissing him again.

Grissom surrendered, and kissed her back. Teasing her was so much fun, but this … As they lay together on his floor, making out like two teenagers, Grissom was sure he had never been happier.

* * *

"Okay, ladies and gentleman, we've got a busy night ahead of us," Grissom said as he entered the break room.

"Goody," Greg grinned. "Does this mean I get to leave the lab?"

"It certainly does," Grissom replied, handing Greg an assignment slip. "You and Sara have a homicide."

"Sounds like fun," Greg said.

Sara plucked the slip out of his hands.

"Hey!" Greg exclaimed.

"Yeah, like you were going to drive," Sara grinned.

Grissom shook his head, trying to ignore their antics. "Sofia, sexual assault in a hotel room."

"All right," she agreed, taking her slip.

"What about you, Griss?" Greg asked. "Don't you get to go out and play?"

"Someone has to stay behind and wait for a new call," Grissom smiled. "Tonight, that someone is me."

"Well, have fun with that," Sara grinned. "Come on, Greg. Let's go check out this dead body."

* * *

Detective Cavalier was waiting for them at the crime scene. He gave them the essential information about their victim – that he had been a body builder and personal trainer who had been found dead by one of his clients – as they walked into the house. His body was in his workout room, his face apparently bashed in on one side.

While Sara looked at the body, Greg began looking around the room. Multiple pictures of the victim hung on the walls, all depicting him scantily-clad and showing off his muscular physique.

"This guy's a poster child for self love," he commented.

"Maybe that's why they went for the face," Sara said.

Greg grimaced as he looked at the victim again. "Had to hurt."

"Most of them do," Sara said. She glanced up at Cavalier. "Did this guy have any enemies?"

"I'm going to talk to the girl who found him now," he said. "After that, I'll start questioning friends and family. I'll keep you posted."

"Thanks," Sara said. She opened her kit next to the body while Greg made his way around the room.

"This guy had some nice gym equipment," Greg commented.

"I'd imagine he'd have to, to look like this," Sara said. She shook her head. "Why do guys want to look this muscular?"

Greg shrugged. "It's all to impress the ladies."

"Yeah, well, _this_ lady isn't impressed. I think he looks gross."

"What?" Greg grinned. "Your new man isn't all muscle-bound?"

Sara pursed her lips to hide her smile. "Still not working, Greg. I'm not telling."

He sighed. "Well, you can't blame me for trying. This could be the best gossip I've almost had access to in years!"

_Oh, it is_, Sara thought. Instead of verbalizing that thought, she smiled. "I'm not that interesting. Sorry to disappoint."

"You're very interesting to me," Greg grinned.

Sara rolled her eyes and sat down cross-legged in front of the victim. She began to take pictures of the body.

"This had to take years of work," Sara said. "No one at the gym looks like this – not even the people who are always there, no matter what time I go."

"No matter how hard you work to get big, there's always someone bigger," Greg commented.

"That could be what keeps them going," Sara said. "Like Freud said," she lowered her camera and turned to look at Greg, "anatomy is destiny."

"What do you think Freud would have to say about one of these being the murder weapon?" Greg asked, shining his flashlight along a free weight.

"Killer didn't even have to be his size," Sara said as she swabbed the blood on the floor. "It could have been a little guy or a woman … All they would have needed was the right weapon, some leverage … element of surprise…"

Greg glanced at her. Seeing that she was occupied with her task, he quickly flexed his bicep in front of the mirror. Good size. His muscles were well-defined, but not "gross," as Sara had termed their victim. He dropped his arm and his sleeve just before Sara turned around. She smiled at the look on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

"You look like a little kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar," Sara grinned. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Greg insisted. He cleared his throat. "I'm going to go start on the rest of the house."

"Have fun … sexy."

Greg's face turned bright red, and he hurried out of the room. Sara grinned. She loved picking on Greg.

* * *

They spent hours in the house, trying to piece together the very odd life of their victim. Greg discovered syringes and a gun in his nightstand, while Sara noted that none of the weights or other exercise equipment tested positive for blood.

"So, what are we looking at, then?" Greg asked. "Do you think the killer smashed the guy's face in and then took the weapon with him?"

"It's possible," Sara said. "Let's keep looking, though. It still might be somewhere in this house."

Greg shook his head. "Why didn't they just go for the gun? It was right there."

"The killer was probably someone who didn't know the vic well," Sara said. "He didn't know to look in the nightstand for the gun."

"Fair enough," Greg replied. "Have you checked out the kitchen yet?"

"No. Shall we go there now?"

"Why not?"

They had just started pulling open cupboards and drawers when the front door burst open.

"We need CSI Sidle and CSI Sanders!"

Sara and Greg looked at each other in alarm. Sara's hand instantly went to her gun, pulling it from its holster.

"Stay behind me," she whispered to Greg.

He nodded, feeling terrible about the fact that he had not yet qualified to carry a weapon. _He_ was the man. It was _his_ responsibility to defend _her_ – wasn't it?

Two men in blue haz-mat suits appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Put your gun away, Sidle," one of them said. "We're here to help you."

"What's going on?" Sara asked, replacing her weapon.

One of the men grabbed her arm while the other grabbed Greg's.

"Dr. Robbins found evidence of an infectious agent in the victim's body," one of the men explained. "We need to get you out now."

"Wait – what –?"

"Come on," they said together, leading Sara and Greg from the house.

"We have a biohazard situation," one of them explained. "You need to be decontaminated immediately."

Sara was pulled from the house first, with Greg only steps behind her. They were both shoved unceremoniously into a blue haz-mat tent.

"We need to you remove everything you're wearing."

"Everything?" Sara squeaked.

"_Everything_."

She glanced at Greg, who wordlessly turned away from her. She turned her back to him, too, and pulled off her latex gloves and kicked off her shoes.

Once they had stripped off all their clothing, the two haz-mat workers turned on shower sprays. They began to shower Sara and Greg, using slow, methodical movements. Sara had never felt more exposed, or more embarrassed. Showering with Greg – much less Greg and two complete strangers – had _never_ been on her to-do list. She lifted her head and glanced at him. He looked up, and she quickly turned away.

Finally, they were declared biohazard free, and given sterile towels to dry off.

"Can we have our clothes back?" Sara asked, wrapping a towel tightly around her body.

"Sorry," one of the haz-mat workers said. He handed them each a pair of coveralls. "You'll have to wear these for now."

"Yeah," Sara sighed. "Thanks."

She looked at Greg who again turned away from her. Facing away from him yet again, she pulled on the coveralls as quickly as possible.

"I'm dressed," she said at last.

"Me, too."

They turned to face each other, both of their faces bright red.

"Well," Greg said.

"Yeah."

"I guess we're done here."

Sara smiled in spite of herself. "To the lab?"

"To the lab."

* * *

They were very silent during the ride back. Greg turned on the radio as soon as they got into the SUV; they were content to let the music provide all the sound in the car. Sara pulled an elastic from her bag at a red light and pulled her wet hair back from her face. It was going to be a long shift.

Greg finally broke their silence as they walked into the lab.

"Sara, I just want you to know … when we were in that shower, I didn't _see_ anything."

"Really?" Sara asked. "Gosh … I saw everything."

Greg turned to look at her in shock. "Well, Ms. Sidle, I may never look at you the same way again."

Sara looked him up and down, pursing her lips to keep from smiling. "Likewise."

"Sara …"

"I'm kidding," she finally laughed. "Oh, man, Greg, that was the most horribly embarrassing experience I've had in … years, at least."

"Yeah, it wasn't exactly fun," Greg grinned.

"Oh, good, you're back," Doc Robbins said, sticking his head out of the layout room. "Come here. I want to talk to you."

They glanced at each other for a second, then followed the coroner into the layout room.

Doc Robbins went through a careful explanation of his findings. The victim's house was contaminated with a specific mold that grew on human blood and tissue. While Sara and Greg's healthy immune systems prevented them from risk from the mold spores, their victim was not so lucky. As part of his quest to win the Mr. Las Vegas competition, he had been taking steroids, which had compromised his immune system. Over time, the mold had grown inside his nasal passages, causing his eye to swell as the bones in his face deteriorated. The end result was his face collapsing in on itself.

While this meant that their victim had not been murdered, Sara and Greg still needed to find the source of the mold. They returned to the house, this time outfitted with masks to protect them from the mold spores.

After several hours of tearing walls apart, they found a bullet lodged in a pipe. A bit more detective work uncovered the sordid truth: the bodybuilder had shot a prostitute in his house. Sara's theory was that she had mocked the impotence that had been brought about by the steroids; "roid rage" had taken over, leading him to shoot her and dispose of the body.

They presented their findings to Grissom, who declared their case closed with a "good work" for both of them.

"Well, this has been … strange," Greg said at last. "I think I'm going to call it a night."

"Hey, Greg, if you want to take a shower, I'm free," Sara called as he left the layout room.

Greg made a face at her. "Can we never speak of this again?"

"Gladly."

He grinned. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Good night, Greg," Grissom said.

"Bye."

Left alone with Grissom, Sara gave him a smile. He returned it warmly.

"So, what are you up to?" she asked.

"No plans."

Her smile widened. "Wanna come over? I'll make dinner."

Grissom raised his eyebrows. "I thought you didn't cook."

"I can make _some_ things," Sara said defensively.

"All right," Grissom smiled. "I need to go home first to take care of Hank, then I'll be over."

"Great."

* * *

By the time Grissom arrived at Sara's apartment, she had already made a salad and was working on a –

"Frittata!" Grissom exclaimed. "I love those."

Sara grinned. "Mary taught me to make these during grad school. But, she swears that the actual name is _tortilla española_."

"Spanish rather than Italian," Grissom nodded.

"Well, that makes sense. She studied in Spain for a year during undergrad." Sara heaved an exaggerated sigh. "It was the loneliest year of my life."

Grissom smiled at her melodramatic words. "What did you put in the tortilla?"

"Potatoes and onions," Sara replied.

"Very Spanish."

"Very the only way I know how to do it," Sara grinned.

"How can I help?" Grissom asked.

"Um … Could you uncork the wine for me?"

"Of course."

Within moments, they were seated at Sara's small table with their tortilla, salad and wine. Grissom smiled at her over his wineglass.

"This is lovely, Sara. Thank you for inviting me."

She smiled back. "I love having you."

They chatted about their cases as they ate – Sara was very amused by the ridiculous teenagers who had stolen a Hummer in Grissom's hit and run. Finally, after finishing their food and two glasses of wine, Grissom gave Sara an odd look.

"What?" she asked.

"I was just wondering …"

"What?"

"How was your shower with Greg?" The question was asked with great effort; Grissom tried to disguise the jealousy in his voice, but failed miserably.

"Oh," Sara giggled. "Humiliating, if you want the truth. I can't believe Doc Robbins put us through all that."

"It was for your safety," Grissom said.

"I know, and I'm grateful, but, still … I'd rather not have to worry about Greg seeing me naked."

A shadow passed over Grissom's eyes. "Yeah," he said tightly. "Well, you said that you had seen _everything_ …"

"You heard us?"

"I did."

"Grissom, that was a joke," Sara said, realizing that he was honestly upset about the entire thing.

"I didn't find it funny."

"Well, neither did Greg, at the time," Sara said. She looked at him for a moment. "You don't … Griss, please, tell me you aren't jealous! We've been over this. Greg is just my friend. He always has been and always will be."

"I know," Grissom said at last. "I just can't make myself like the idea of him showering with you, that's all."

Sara giggled.

"You find this funny?"

She got up out of her chair and crossed to his side of the table. "You are adorable," she said, taking his face in her hands.

"Oh, really?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm," she murmured, leaning down to kiss him.

Grissom kissed her back intensely, pulling her down until she was sitting in his lap, straddling him. He ran his hands down her back, then up again, this time under her shirt. Sara moaned at the contact of his skin against hers.

He pulled his lips away from hers to trail down her neck. She moaned again, and rocked her hips against him.

"God, Griss …"

He hummed against her skin, attacking her neck again. Her hands went to his hair, her fingers tangling in his curls. He brought his head back up again, his lips seeking hers while his hands slid around to her chest. She giggled against him, twisting slightly.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"You tickled me."

He laughed. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," she moaned as his hands slid under her bra. "Just kiss me."

"Gladly."

They continued their intense make out session until Sara's hands slid south and unzipped Grissom's pants. She had just moved to slide her hand inside them when he pulled back.

"Sara … I think we need to stop."

"What?" she asked, looking at him with glazed eyes. "Why?"

"I just … think we should wait a bit longer before … we consummate this relationship."

Sara looked at him for a long moment. He was serious. And, the more she thought about it, it made sense. They hadn't truly declared themselves "boyfriend and girlfriend" just yet. Why rush things? That was certainly a mistake she had made in the past. And, this relationship was one thing she did not intend to mess up.

"Okay," she said at last.

He looked a bit surprised at how easily she had given in. "Okay?"

She nodded. "We have plenty of time." She leaned forward and gave him a chaste peck on the lips. "Do you want to go watch tv or something?"

Grissom smiled, relieved that she had taken this so well. It wasn't that he didn't want her. He had been dreaming of being with her for ages. But, he didn't want to rush into anything with her. There was no sense in doing something that one or both of them would come to regret. Having sex too soon would ruin their relationship. And, this was one relationship that he did not intend to ruin.

"Okay," he smiled, "let's go watch tv."

Sara climbed off Grissom's lap and held out her hand to lead him to the couch. He laced his fingers through hers, smiling at her. She grinned back as they settled themselves on the couch. Sara picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels.

"What do you want to watch?" she asked.

"Whatever you'd like," Grissom replied. He looked at her for a moment, dread and embarrassment slowly spreading through him. "Um … Sara?"

"Yes?"

"Um … first, I'd like to say that I'm sorry. Second, I really, really hope those marks are gone by tomorrow."

"What are you talking about?" Sara asked, turning to look at him.

Grissom's face was bright red. "You have some beard burn on your neck."

Sara's eyes widened and her hand shot up to touch her neck. She winced slightly as her fingers made contact with the tender skin. "So I do."

"I'm so sorry," Grissom said.

Sara smiled and ran her hand down his cheek. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I'll take care of it."

"Sara …"

She got up off the couch and tossed the remote into Grissom's lap. "I said I'd take care of it," she repeated. "Find us something to watch."

She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone with the television. By the time she returned, he had settled on a _Simpsons_ rerun. She grinned at him as she sat down next to him again. He noticed that she had put her hair into a ponytail and slathered Neosporin all over her neck.

"This should help it heal," she said.

"I'm sorry," he said miserably.

"Griss, stop it!" she exclaimed. "It's not your fault … well, not _entirely_ your fault. In case you missed it, I was having as much fun as you were."

"Maybe I should –"

"Don't even say it," Sara interrupted, putting a finger over his lips. "I like your beard. I think it's sexy. And, if you want to shave it off, by all means, do. You're still sexy without it. But, do it because you want it gone, not because you might give me beard burn while we're making out."

Grissom smiled. "You're the best. You know that, right?"

Sara grinned, her cheeks turning pink. "So are you."

He cleared his throat. "Okay. So, I won't shave the beard until I decide I need a change. I promise."

"Good."

"Now, you have to promise me something, too."

"Oh, really?" she said playfully, arching an eyebrow. "And, what, pray tell, is that?"

"No more showers with Greg Sanders."

Sara grinned. "I promise never to shower with Greg again."

"Good," Grissom sighed, putting his arm around her to draw her close. "I don't know if I can handle that idea ever again."

* * *

The beard burn was not gone the next day. When Sara came into the break room for the start of shift, the first thing Grissom noticed was the scarf she had around her neck. They made eye contact and immediately looked away, both of their faces rather pink.

Sofia came in shortly after Sara, the last member of the team to make an appearance. She sat down across the table from Sara and smiled at her.

"I love your scarf," she said.

"Thanks," Sara smiled.

"It's a very trendy look," Sofia continued. "Not that you don't have good fashion sense, but what made you decide to try it?"

"Oh, I've worn scarves off and on for awhile," Sara said. "I was just … in the mood."

Grissom coughed to hide his laugh. "Okay, everyone, let's get started."

Sara looked up at him, finally making eye contact again. They both grinned.

In the mood, indeed.


	24. Demons

A/N: Well, it's a weekend update, as promised! I hope this lives up to your expectations – I have to admit that I'm a little nervous about it. I can't wait to read your thoughts.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 520, "Committed." Ah, yes, it's the one you've been waiting for!

* * *

_Demons_

Grissom found himself facing a rather lonely shift. Sara had gone to interview a suspect in an open case that she had been working and Greg and Sofia had returned to the scene of a drive-by shooting they had been working for several days. Deciding to take advantage of the unusual quiet and calm, Grissom had shut himself in his office with a stack of case reviews.

He was only halfway through his paperwork when a light knock sounded on his door. He looked up to see Brass walking into his office.

"Hey, Gil, I have a new case."

"Great," Grissom replied. "Homicide?"

Brass looked surprised. "How did you know?"

Grissom shrugged. "You've got that 'homicide' look about you."

Brass shook his head. "Whatever. Look, we're going to want two of you on this one. Is Greg free?"

Grissom frowned. "No, he's on a drive-by with Sofia. I'll bring Sara."

Brass paused. "Could you borrow Nick or Warrick from Catherine?"

"No, I think all three of them are working a multiple homicide. What is going on, Brass? Why don't you want me to bring Sara on this case?"

"Look, it's not that I don't trust her," Brass said quickly. "She's a great CSI. Top notch. It's just … this homicide was committed Desert State Mental Hospital."

"And?"

"And, the patients are violent. Criminally insane. Quite a few are sex offenders. I just … I don't want to put Sara in harm's way."

Grissom's expression softened. "Okay," he said slowly, "I can see you point."

"But …?"

"But, there's no one else, unless I try to poach someone from days, which would only make Ecklie angry. We'll just … we'll keep an eye on Sara. She'll be okay. She's tough."

"Yeah," Brass agreed. "I'm sure she'll be fine."

* * *

Sara had just walked out of PD when her phone rang. She picked it up, taking the time to read Grissom's name on the display.

"Sidle."

"Hey, Sara, how close are you to finishing at PD?"

"I'm on my way out now," she replied. "Why?"

"Jim just came in with a new homicide. I wanted to see if you'd like to come along."

"Sure," she said.

"You might want to know that it's at Desert State Mental Hospital," Grissom said. "If you don't want to come, I'll understand."

"No, that's fine," Sara said, walking across the parking lot to her car. "I'll be back at the lab in a few minutes."

"You're sure?"

"Grissom, are _you_ sure?" she asked bluntly. "You don't seem excited about taking me along on this one."

"I just … don't want you to get hurt."

A warm feeling spread through her as a smile spread across her face. "I'll be fine," she said soothingly. "I'll have you and Jim with me. I know you'll be my brave, strong men."

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I'll see you soon, then?"

"I'll see you soon."

Sara sighed and closed her phone as she unlocked her car. She climbed inside and sat still for a moment, her hands clenching the steering wheel as she looked straight ahead.

A thousand memories assaulted her at once. She shook her head, pushing them all aside.

"I'll be fine," she said aloud. "It's not the same. I'm not a little girl now. I'm going in as a law enforcement officer. It's completely different."

She swallowed. "Besides, this time, I won't be alone. He'll be with me."

She looked her reflection in the rearview mirror and tried to smile. "Maybe, after this, I'll be able to forget."

With that thought to strengthen her, she turned on the car and drove the short distance to the lab.

* * *

By the time Sara returned to the lab, Grissom and Brass were ready to go. They were standing in the reception area, waiting for her.

"Is this my welcoming committee?" she asked with a smile.

"Hey, kiddo," Brass smiled. "Listen, I know that Gil's already explained that we're going to a mental institution, but I just wanted to make sure that you're really okay with it."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Would you both stop trying to baby me?" she asked. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," Brass said. "I just don't like the idea of you surrounded by violent murderers and sexual predators."

"Because that's different from a normal day, how, exactly?" Sara asked. "Jim, I deal with criminals every single day. The only difference is that we already know who the violent ones are this time." She paused. "And, that they're medicated to control their conditions," she added as an afterthought.

Brass smiled at Grissom. "She's a quick one."

"I've always known that," Grissom said, giving Sara a smile.

Sara returned his smile. "I'll just get my kit, and I'll be ready to go."

Sara shook her head as she walked away from Grissom and Brass. She appreciated their concern, but it was terribly misplaced. In this case, she didn't think that the greatest danger came from the suspects. She was quite sure that it came from the memories that she had worked so hard to forget.

* * *

Rain poured down as they walked into Desert State Mental Hospital. Grissom held a large umbrella over himself and Sara; Brass pulled his overcoat over his head. A balding man met them at the door, holding it open for them.

"LVPD?" he asked.

"Yes," Brass said, holding up his badge.

"And these two?"

"CSI," Brass replied.

The man nodded and opened the door wider, bidding them to enter. They did, Grissom closing his umbrella once Sara had stepped inside.

"I'm Dr. John Scott, one of the administrators of the hospital," he said.

"I'm Captain Jim Brass of the LVPD," Brass said. "This is Dr. Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle. They're both with the crime lab."

"It's nice to meet you all," Dr. Scott said. "I wish it could have been under better circumstances." He glanced at their personal items. "If you would, could you leave your umbrellas and anything you don't want to carry with you at all times here at the desk? Our security staff will take good care of it."

Brass handed over his jacket and Grissom gave them his umbrella.

Dr. Scott glanced at them again, his eyes lingering on their weapons. "I'm sorry," he said. "I can't allow you to take loaded guns into the hospital. It's for your own safety. The chances of a patient trying to steal and use one of them …"

They all removed their guns, handing them over to the security personnel. Sara had never felt so lost without her weapon before.

"I'll need you to step through these metal detectors next," Dr. Scott continued. "It's standard procedure. Just leave your kits with our inspectors as you walk through."

Once they had all been cleared, Dr. Scott led them through the alarmed, secured doors into the heart of the facility.

"We have two types of patients here," he explained as they walked, "the criminally insane and sexually violent predators, all with multiple convictions. We get the inmates the prisons can't handle." He paused just before opening the last door, and turned to face them. "Keep your kits closed and locked when not in use." He looked at Sara again. Of the three of them, she was the only one wearing an LVPD-issued vest. "Um, Ms. Sidle, best if you remove the vest. New uniforms upset them."

Sara, obviously annoyed, set her kit down to take off her vest. She felt as though the administrator was systematically stripping away all her external defenses.

Once Sara was vest-free, they passed through the locked doors. Dr. Scott continued talking as they followed him down the hall, explaining the hospital's goals of psychiatric remission for its patients. As he spoke, a line of inmates came around the corner. Dr. Scott stopped his monologue abruptly.

"Oh, um, if you could actually stop here and put your backs against the wall, please. It's standard safety procedure."

They stopped walking and did as he asked. One of the inmates openly leered at Sara, sticking his tongue out at her in an obscene gesture. Grissom felt her tense next to him, and, neither for the first nor the last time, regretting asking her to come with him for this case.

The inmates passed them – they were on their way to the day room, Dr. Scott explained – and they were free to continue on their progress. They met with the two nurses who had been on duty when the body was discovered, as well as the hospital police officer who had been the first on the scene. They established a timeline for the murder, and explained how the victim had been found – lying on the floor next to his bed, his head in a pool of blood – noting that another inmate had been in the room, sitting on the floor, covered in the victim's blood.

Grissom walked away while Brass continued asking questions, going to the open bedroom where the body was lying. As they nurse had described, pool of blood surrounded the man's head. Grissom also noted that the man's blood was spattered up and down the walls.

They were next taken to "seclusion." The small room held a table with restraints, where Kenny, the man who had been discovered in the victim's room, was struggling to free himself from the restraints. As the first witness, he was, naturally, the first suspect. Considering the fact that he was a violent murderer, it was not that much of a stretch to believe that he was guilty. This could be a very easy case.

As soon as she stepped into the seclusion room, Sara's eyes were immediately drawn to angry red cuts across Kenny's arms.

"How did he get those wounds?" she asked.

"Oh, Kenny's a self-mutilator," Leon, one of the hospital's techs, explained. "He suffers from Renfield's Syndrome; gets off on blood."

At first, Sara was shocked by the casual way Leon described his patient's mental problems. But, as she thought about it, she realized that he probably _had_ to think of it in a somewhat casual way. It was no different than her job, really – if she concentrated on the details for too long, if she let herself get too emotionally involved, she lost perspective.

Grissom's voice brought her back to the present as he asked if Kenny had been wearing the same clothes when they found him as he was at the moment. After receiving an affirmative answer, he looked at Sara and inclined his head, silently asking her to leave the room with him.

Sara was glad to step into the hallway and get away from Kenny's futile struggle to free himself.

"There was blood spatter all over the victim's room," Grissom said quietly.

"Blood, but no spatter on Kenny's clothes," Sara said.

"I'm not sure this is our guy," Grissom said with a shake of his head.

So much for the easy case.

* * *

"Okay," Brass said. "So, you've eliminated our first suspect. Should we start interviewing the others?"

"They were all in the immediate area," Grissom said. "They're all either suspects or witnesses. Let's see what they have to say for themselves."

"I'll see if I can get some rooms set up for us," Brass said, walking away from the other two.

Grissom looked at Sara. She raised her eyebrows.

"What?" she asked.

"I'll do interviews with Brass," he said. "Would you process the victim's room?"

Sara nodded. She knew it was taking the easy way out, but patients like these always made her feel uncomfortable.

"You'll be okay on your own?"

She smiled slightly. "I'll be fine. I think I can handle processing. Besides, all the patients will be with you and Brass. Who's going to bother me?"

"Fair enough," Grissom replied. "Good luck."

"To you, too."

* * *

As Sara processed Robbie Garson's room, all the strangeness of their location faded away. This was just another day at work, with just another murder to investigate. She lost herself in the task at hand, doing her job with the dedication and care that had become second nature over the years.

It wasn't until she discovered semen on the victim's sheets that she came back into herself. This wasn't just another case with just another victim. This was the case of a sexually violent predator who had been murdered in a mental hospital.

A sexually violent predator who had been chemically castrated. The semen on the sheets wasn't his.

Her work in the room finished for the moment, Sara packed up her evidence and kit. It was time to talk to her colleagues.

* * *

She found Brass and Grissom leaving their interviews. They were coming down the hall toward her; they met halfway.

"Hey, guys," she said. "I found semen in the victim's room, and it's probably not his; he was chemically castrated."

"So, you're thinking the donor could be the killer?" Brass asked.

"If sex is the foreplay, violence is the climax," Grissom stated.

"Well …" Brass said, raising his hand to indicated the day room, where the patients had been gathered, "happy swabbing."

Grissom and Sara divided the men, each swabbing the cheeks of half of them for DNA. To be fair, Grissom did more than his share. While he swabbed Leon's cheek, Sara was attempting to convince a patient to open his mouth for her. He remained completely still, not even looking up at her. Then, without warning, he lunged forward, snapping his teeth to bite her.

Sara jumped back, throwing her arms up. "Grissom," she called, "you take this one."

Grissom crossed the room, looking at the man who was being held back by security. Sara was walking away from him, an expression of disgust on her face. Grissom swabbed the man's cheek – it was much easier when he was muttering under his breath – and followed Sara into the hall.

He found her packing her swabs. She looked the picture of calm; only her shaking hands gave her away.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

"I'm fine," she said without looking up. "I just … didn't want to lose a hand."

"Sara …"

"Let's get back to the lab," she said, finally turning to face him. "We have a lot of evidence to process."

* * *

Once they arrived at the lab, Grissom immediately went to the morgue for Robbie's autopsy, while Sara began on their evidence. She had only been working on the sheets for a few minutes when Greg walked in.

"Hey," he said cheerfully.

"How's the drive-by?" Sara asked.

"Done," Greg replied. "Gang-related."

"Fun."

"Well, at least the gang unit over at PD hasn't been bored," he said. "We still have some time left before the end of shift. Can I help you with something?"

"Sure," Sara replied. "Want to process that pillow?"

"I'm on it," Greg grinned.

He took the pillow and left her alone. Only moments later, Grissom walked into the room.

"Hey," he said. "How are you coming on the evidence?"

"Slow," Sara replied. "These sheets are taking me forever. I just sent Greg off with the victim's pillow."

"You mean, with the potential murder weapon."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"Doc Robbins just told me that COD was asphyxia. All the contusions and lacerations occurred several hours post-mortem."

"Wow," Sara said. "So, someone smothered Robbie to death, left, then came back a few hours later to bash his head against the floor?"

"Yeah, that's about it," Grissom replied. "He also had bruising from restraints."

"Restraints … like the ones they had Kenny in?"

"Exactly."

Sara shuddered. "So, he could have died on that table in the seclusion room?"

"Yes."

"So, the pillow might not be the murder weapon."

"Right now, anything's possible."

Sara sighed. "Okay. I'll call the hospital and see if I can find out if Robbie's been in seclusion recently."

Grissom looked at her for a moment. "Wait until tomorrow," he advised. "Things might make more sense by then."

* * *

The next day, Brass and Sara returned to the hospital to view surveillance tapes from the seclusion room. While Robbie had been there on the day of his death, serving a punishment for an incident that occurred during group therapy, he had not died while restrained. He had been given a heavy dose of an antipsychotic medication, which made him nearly unable to stand up on his own, but that medication had been accounted for in his tox screen – the only one found in his system.

While they did return from the hospital with the new knowledge that Leon had been replacing any medication that had street value with over the counter drugs, selling the narcotics to supplement his income, they were no closer to finding the killer.

It was Greg who brought them the next clue: the pillow from Robbie's bed was, indeed, the murder weapon. It was covered in his saliva, and had slits on either end. They had been made by fingernails piercing through the fabric as the pillow was held over Robbie's face, smothering him.

Finally feeling like they had something to go on, Sara returned to the hospital yet again. She needed to talk to his nurse.

* * *

Nurse McKay was slightly less than enthusiastic about helping Sara. While she did explain that Robbie's outburst during group therapy had been brought about by a forbidden personal object he had had with him – a picture of a little boy – she didn't seem to find anything unusual about the incident.

Grissom arrived at the hospital soon after Sara; he came with the news that they had DNA results from Mia. The semen on Robbie's sheets had been donated by Adam Trent, an exceptionally ill rapist who happened to be a compulsive nail-bitter. While this particular compulsion meant that he probably had not smothered Robbie – his nails could not have ripped the pillow –, he still became their new person of interest.

Grissom and Sara processed Adam's room together. Sara had to admit that she was glad to have Grissom with her this time. Adam's room showed more psychotic tendencies than Robbie's did; it made her feel uneasy.

The walls were decorated with his artwork. Drawings of cats with barbed wire tails and Medusa had places of prominence. Grissom took pictures of them while Sara gazed at them like a visitor in an art gallery.

"This stuff is dark," Grissom said, lowering his camera.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "Of course, I wouldn't expect Winnie the Pooh."

"Adam's subconscious was working overtime."

"I bet you aced your Rorschachs," Sara smiled.

Grissom looked at her for a minute, then resumed taking photo documentation of the drawings.

"When I was in fifth grade, I drew a picture of a harpooned whale," Sara said, still looking at the pictures. "Everyone thought I was gonzo'd. But, I had just read _Moby Dick_. Sometimes a dying whale is just a dying whale."

Grissom lowered his camera to smile at her. Sara smiled back, enjoying the moment of sharing and connection.

The connection was broken a moment later as they went back to work. They found a treasure-trove in a vent. Adam had been saving a hair brush, as well as stacks of letters from his mother. The letters were rather disturbing – they were far more sexual than maternal in tone. Sara felt disgusted as she and Grissom read them. They went to Dr. Dino, the on-call doctor, to find more information.

She explained that Adam's father had died when he was nine. His mother had used Adam to replace him, beginning a cycle of sexual, mental and emotional abuse. His mother had written to him consistently for a long time, until Dr. Dino had intervened. The letters were not healthy, and only hurt Adam's rehabilitation. She had started sending the letters back; eventually, they stopped coming.

Grissom felt sick as he listened to her talk. He, too, had been nine when his father had died. His mother, however, had never let the loss of her husband alter their roles in each other's lives. He felt a sudden urge to call her and thank her for being such a good parent.

"Well," Grissom said as they walked out of the doctor's office.

"Yeah," Sara said.

Grissom looked at her for a moment, watching her eyes as she steeled herself. Whatever horror she felt about this case was pushed down as the professional façade came back into play. He knew exactly what she was doing; he was doing the same thing.

"We need to talk to him," Grissom said.

"Yes, we do," Sara agreed.

* * *

Adam readily admitted to killing Robbie. However, he stated that he had killed him by beating his head off the floor. The pillow and smothering him were never mentioned.

Every time Sara looked at Grissom during the interview, Adam took it for disbelief of his story. He finally directed her to look in a bucket in the restroom, where she would find his bloody clothes.

Sara and Grissom went to the restroom, where they found the clothes Adam had described. In addition to the blood spatter that had been so glaringly absent from Kenny's clothes, they found lipstick on his boxer shorts. Horrified, they ran through all three women who worked in the hospital. Dr. Dino did not wear lipstick. Nurse Farber did not wear this shade. That left Nurse McKay.

"The color is a visual match to hers," Sara said. "I'll go dig one of her cigarettes out of the ashtray in the exercise yard so that we can match the color at the lab."

Grissom shook his head. "This is getting more and more twisted."

"Tell me about it," Sara said, walking toward the bathroom door.

"Sara," Grissom said suddenly, standing up from his position bagging the clothes. "Nurse McKay … does she have long nails?"

"Yes," Sara said shortly.

* * *

After collecting the cigarette, Sara convinced one of the hospital police officers to give her and Grissom access to the nurses' station. Left alone, they began going through the paperwork on top of the desks and counters. While Sara was busy with the mementos on the counter, Grissom tried to open the drawers, only to find that they were locked.

"I'm going to find someone to open these drawers."

"Okay," Sara agreed.

Grissom left. Sara, engrossed in the picture she had found on the counter, barely noticed that he was gone.

"Hey."

Sara's head came up. The voice behind her was not Grissom's. She turned in time to see Adam Trent inside the nurses' station, closing the door behind him. She stared at him in shock, completely at a loss for words.

"Are you a spiritual person?" he asked.

"Sometimes," Sara said, putting the picture down and feeling across the counter. She needed some sort of weapon – anything that she could use to knock him down long enough so that she could escape.

"Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? That bad things are there to teach us a karmic lesson?"

Sara merely looked at him, her fingers closing around a syringe. She stepped slightly away from the desk as he walked closer to her.

"You know, maybe all our problems can be cured by tuning in to a higher frequency," he said. "There's this one guy I read, he believe that illness, anxiety and fear all occur when people are vibrating at ten thousand cycles a second."

Sara nodded, desperation seeping into her eyes as Adam came ever closer. She held the syringe behind her back. It was such a small thing – would it be enough to help her overpower him? It had to be – she had to do this. She had to escape.

She yanked the top off the needle and pulled it from behind her back, lunging at him. Adam caught her as she tried to stab the needle into his shoulder, knocking her arm away. The syringe fell from her hand and rolled helplessly across the floor. Adam grabbed Sara, holding her tightly as he reversed their positions so that he was the one with his back to the desk. She struggled against him, trying desperately to free herself from his death grip. He pulled her down to the ground, holding her back against his chest as they crouched next to the desk. Once they were both kneeling, he pulled a ceramic shard from his pocket and held it against her throat. Sara gripped the arm that held her across the shoulders and collarbone, trying to pull it away from her neck.

"If they could just get up to a hundred thousand cycles per second they'd be in the realm of sound, light and spirit, and everything would be just fine, right?"

"Yeah," Sara gasped, nodding.

"You know what I think? I think I'm just vibrating at the wrong frequency."

Sara struggled against him, trying to get free.

"Don't," he warned, pressing the shard against her throat.

"It's okay," she gasped desperately. Maybe placating him would work … She would not give up or give in. She _would not_ die. Not in this place. Not at this man's hands. Not on this day.

"You think I'm smart?" Adam asked, his voice suddenly choked with tears.

"Yeah," Sara said.

"Yeah?" Adam asked.

Grissom appeared in the window.

"Uh-huh," she said.

Terror like he had never known ran through Grissom as he looked into the nurses' station. Sara, _his Sara_, was on the floor, held captive by a man who had raped and murdered before, a man who was holding a sharp object against her neck …

"Oh, dear God," he muttered.

"Do you think I'm right?" Adam sobbed.

"Yeah," Sara said.

"Open the door," Grissom said quietly to the orderly who had brought keys along to open the locked drawers.

"I can't. I don't have the right key," the man said, fumbling with the keys in his hand.

"Just open it," Grissom said, still trying to maintain a calm exterior. Sara was struggling, she was fighting back, but he didn't know how long she'd be able to hold on.

Sara finally made eye contact with Grissom. She stopped struggling as she stared into his eyes. The desperation in her eyes met the fear in his, and a thousand emotions passed between them.

"_Please_ open the door," Grissom said.

"Don't you move a muscle!" Adam yelled, his threat going both to Sara and to Grissom. "I will grind you, you bitch! You hear me?"

Sara nodded and tore her eyes from Grissom's to look back down. Alarms went off to alert the others to the crisis.

"Do not look at them!"

"Okay," Sara agreed desperately.

"Keep your eyes on the floor!"

Nurse McKay ran up to the nurses' station. She threw her hands against the glass, yelling at Adam to wait, to stop.

It was the distraction Sara needed. Adam released one arm from her to point at the nurse as he began screaming. Taking advantage of his lack of attention, Sara threw her elbow into his chest, knocking him down. She jumped up and ran out of the nurses' station. The screaming as Adam slit his own throat was mere background noise as she flung her hands up against a grated window at the end of the hall.

Grissom was there in a moment. He just stood behind her for several moments without speaking. Sara was glad. As grateful as she was for his presence, she needed time to get herself under control before speaking. Grissom understood; he was willing to let her break the silence.

"Will he be okay?" she finally asked.

"I don't know," Grissom said. "The doctors got to him quickly, so …"

"Good."

He swallowed. "Sara … are _you_ okay?"

"Yes," she said. She finally turned to look at him. "Thank you for staying with me. While he had me," she clarified at his confused expression. "If you had left … just seeing you there, knowing that you were watching … it helped so much."

"I felt so helpless," he admitted. "So much was happening, and I couldn't control any of it … I felt like I was failing you."

She shook her head. "Never."

She stepped back from the window and leaned her back against the wall. Grissom stood facing her, his shoulder against the same wall. He watched her carefully. Years of interrogating both the guilty and the innocent told him that she desperately wanted to tell him something. He just needed to be patient and to wait for her to be ready.

"When my father died, my mother came to a place like this for awhile for evaluation," she said at last.

Grissom watched as she looked alternately between him and the empty space in front of her. She had never told him that. Had he known all the horrible memories it would bring up for her, he never would have brought her on this case. He would have pulled Greg from his case and brought him. He even would have risked Ecklie's wrath and borrowed a dayshift CSI. Sara did not need this reminder of her past.

"It looked the same," she continued, "it smelled the same … it smelled like lies."

"You sure you're okay?" Grissom asked.

"Crazy people do make me feel crazy," she said, looking up at him with a faint shadow of a false smile.

"If you want, I can have somebody take your place," Grissom offered. Both Greg and Sofia were now free; it wouldn't be a difficult thing to do. He just … wanted her to be happy, and he didn't think that would happen in this place.

"I appreciate that," Sara said. "I do, I really do, but … I kinda made a decision beyond that, and I really wanna finish this case."

Grissom nodded slightly. If it was what she wanted, it would happen. He would make sure that it happened as quickly as possible.

* * *

After Sara's encounter with Adam, things fell together quickly. Whether it was because they had hit that point in the case, or because Grissom was working that much harder to end this case as soon as he could, Sara never knew. But, the end result shocked them both.

Joanne McKay, the daytime nurse, was actually Adam's mother. After her correspondence with her son had been cut off, she applied for a job at the hospital using her maiden name. She would be close to him one way or another.

She was horrified to discover that Adam had entered into a sexual relationship with Robbie. She told Adam to end it. Fearing that he wouldn't, she killed Robbie herself. She suggested that he bring the picture of a young Adam to group therapy, knowing that she'd be able to use the fact that he had a personal object to heavily medicate him. Once he was in a sound, narcotic-induced sleep, she used his pillow to smother him. Ever the dutiful son, Adam entered the room later to hit Robbie's head off the floor, making it look like he had killed him, taking the blame away from his mother.

Sara and Brass ran the interrogation. Joanne was cold toward them, showing little emotion until Sara suggested that Adam had acted to cover his mother's crimes.

"Why would my son do that?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Because he loves you as much as he hates you," Sara said.

Watching on the other side of the glass, Grissom could actually feel the emotion behind Sara's words. He wondered how much of her statement was about Adam … and how much was about Sara.

Joanne commented, her voice still shaky, that they'd never be able to prove their theory. Brass acknowledged the truth of her statement; but, he informed her that what they _could_ prove – the incest – carried a penalty of up to ten years.

"That's ten years away from Adam," Sara said.

"Good luck getting him to testify," she said, her cold demeanor slipping back. All emotion was gone again.

Knowing that her work was done, Sara got up from the table and left the interrogation room. She walked out into the observation room, where Grissom was watching as the woman was arrested.

"Well, jail or no jail, I don't think she'll last six months," Grissom said. "She'll die without her son."

"That would be better for both of them."

The quiet venom in Sara's voice surprised Grissom. He looked at her for a long moment before stepping out into the hall. He had actually started to walk away before he realized that she wasn't with him. He returned to the observation room, where Sara was still standing, staring at the now empty interrogation room. Tears stood in her eyes, and she bit her lips, obviously fighting for control.

"Sara, are you all right?" he asked.

She shook her head, knowing that she couldn't trust her voice.

Grissom nodded. He stood next to her for a moment, wanting to touch her, but fearing that someone would see them.

"Let me … take you home," he said at last. "We've pulled a double. No one expects us to be here now, anyway."

Sara nodded, and turned to follow him from the room. Grissom led her out of PD and into his waiting car.

Sara was quiet during the ride to her apartment. She stared out the window, watching the familiar scenery as it flew past. She barely registered where she was until Grissom pulled the parking lot at her apartment complex.

They walked up to her apartment together. Grissom waited patiently while Sara unlocked the door, and followed her inside. She walked in as if in a trance.

"Can I get you something?" he asked her. "A glass of water, maybe?"

She shook her head. "I … I really just want to sleep."

"Oh. Okay. Um, I guess I'll just ..."

"Stay with me," Sara said suddenly.

Grissom's eyes widened. "Um, okay," he agreed.

"I don't … I can't be alone right now. Not after what's happened."

"I don't want you to be alone," Grissom agreed. The idea of letting her out of his sight ever again was not very appealing. He still hated himself for leaving her alone in that nurses' station. He had a feeling that he would forever.

"Will you … sleep with me?" Sara asked. She could feel a slight flush rising in her cheeks. "I don't mean … I just want to know that you're next to me. That you're not going to leave me."

"Of course," Grissom agreed. He could feel the heat rising to his own cheeks. "I want to know that you're next to me, too."

Sara finally smiled a genuine, albeit small, smile. "Come on. I'll show you to the bedroom."

They took turns in the bathroom, and finally were both ready for bed. Grissom took in the sight of Sara in her pajamas – shorts and a tank top – and was reminded of the first time he brought her breakfast. She looked like a little girl like this – a little girl that he wanted to protect.

Sara, so wrapped up in the memory of Adam's hand pushing a ceramic shard against her throat that she could barely think straight, hardly noticed Grissom in his boxers and t-shirt. She merely pulled back the covers from her bed and climbed in.

Taking his cues from her, Grissom crawled in on the other side of the bed. He looked at Sara for a moment, watching the way her eyes stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. He reached across and took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

"She's sick, isn't she?" she said at last.

"Very," Grissom agreed.

Sara nodded slightly. "So is he."

"Yes."

"Do you … do you think that maybe it's genetic?"

"No," Grissom said, "I don't. I think she abused him so much when he was so young that he never learned how to be normal."

Sara nodded again. "Do you think that I'm normal?"

"Yes," Grissom said firmly. He raised the hand he held in his to his lips and kissed it. "I think you're wonderful, Sara."

She turned to him with a half-smile. "Could we … cuddle?"

Grissom smiled and nodded.

"I need … to feel your arms around me," Sara said. She shivered slightly. "Not his."

Grissom responded instantly, turning to spoon her up against his chest. He pressed his lips against the back of her neck in a gentle kiss. Sara leaned into him, sighing with contentment.

Lying wrapped up in Grissom's solid embrace was where she belonged.


	25. Before It's Gone

A/N: How 'bout that? An early update! But, don't get too used to this … and, don't expect anything else until the weekend. This chapter was just so much fun to write, and I'm so excited for you to read it. It's short, it's sweet, and it's a moment I think you've all been awaiting patiently for quite some time. Enjoy!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Before It's Gone_

Not surprisingly, Grissom awoke first the next "morning." Never a fan of sleeping in someone else's bed, the "strangeness" of the situation woke him earlier than usual.

He opened his eyes slowly as confusion set in. Where was he? Why was he sleeping on lavender sheets? Why was there another person in the bed? Why was his shoulder numb?

Then, it all came back to him. He had brought Sara home. She had asked him to stay with her. They had fallen asleep cuddled up together in her bed. Now, only six hours after he had wrapped his arms around her, holding her in an embrace that convinced both of them that she was safe, he was awake again, lying on his back.

Sara was still asleep, lying on her stomach, using Grissom's shoulder as her pillow. He glanced down at her. In her current position, he could only see the top of her head. Even so, he knew that she was sleeping peacefully; her deep, even breathing told him that much. Despite the fact that his shoulder was numb and stabbing pains were shooting down his arm, he couldn't bring himself to wake her. He wanted her to have as many of these calm, peaceful moments as she could.

As it was, he did not have to wait long for her to awake. Only a few minutes later, she stirred against him, burrowing her face into his shoulder for a moment as she woke up. He found the motion to be absolutely adorable; it made sleeping in a strange bed worth it.

Sara finally managed to open her eyes. She, too, seemed disoriented at first; she frowned slightly as she looked around. Then, she turned to look up at him with a smile.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," he replied, running a finger down her cheek.

She smiled at his touch. "Have you been awake long?"

He shook his head. "I didn't wake you, did I? I was trying not to move."

"No, I just woke up on my own," she said. She ran her hand over his chest, watching its progress. "Griss … thank you for staying with me. I …"

"I wanted to stay as much as you wanted me to," he interrupted. "I wanted to know that you're safe."

She looked up at him again and smiled. "With you … I feel safe. Maybe … for the first time in my life."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "You _are_ safe," he said. "I won't let anything happen to you – not ever again."

She rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him. "I believe you," she said, almost as if she couldn't fully accept her own words as true. "I've never been able to trust anyone the way I trust you. It's …"

He smiled and ran his had through her tousled hair. "Nice," he finished for her.

"Yeah," she smiled. "Nice." She tilted her head down to kiss his chest through his t-shirt. "Do you want to have something for dinner? I'm sure we have to be at work soon."

"Sara, I want you to call off tonight."

"What?" she exclaimed. "What are you talking about?"

"You've been through a terrible ordeal," he said. "You need a night off."

"I need to get back in there," she said. "If you fall off the horse, you get right back on again. You know that."

"Not if the horse tries to kick your head in," Grissom said patiently.

"Who's going to take my place?" she asked. "We're shorthanded as it is!"

"Let Sofia worry about it."

"Let … Sofia? Grissom? What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's my night off," Grissom replied with a smile. "Sofia has shift tonight. She'll deal with it. I'm sure she'll borrow Nick or Warrick if she gets slammed."

"Oh, now I really don't know," Sara said. "If you're not going to be there, either …"

"You need the time, Sara." He smiled and touched her cheek. "Besides," he continued, "I want to have the night off with you. That hasn't happened in ages."

"You're right," Sara sighed. As much as she hated the idea of calling off, she truly did need a night to decompress. And, the fact that she could spend it with Grissom was very appealing … She reached across to her nightstand, where her cell phone was lying plugged into its charger. "I feel awful about this."

"I'll make it worth your emotional duress," Grissom promised.

"You'd better," Sara said as she pressed the numbers to call the lab.

Grissom smiled. "I promise, honey. This will be a night you'll never forget."

"It had – oh, hi, Judy."

Grissom just stopped himself from laughing at the look on Sara's face as Judy picked up quicker than she had anticipated.

Sara talked to Judy for a moment, explaining that she wasn't feeling well. Judy was quite concerned, but Sara brushed it off, promising to be in on time the next day. She finally managed to convince Judy that all she needed was a bit of extra sleep, and ended the call.

"I love her, but, sometimes, she can be a little too motherly," Sara sighed as she put the phone back on her nightstand.

Grissom nodded. "She's sweet, though."

"Very." Sara rolled away from Grissom and pulled herself into a seated position. "Would you like to shower?" she asked.

"Sure," he replied.

She glanced at his clothes from the day before, which were neatly folded and lying on top of her dresser. "I can wash your clothes while you're in the shower, if you'd like."

"Don't do that," he said, getting out of bed. "I'll get my extra clothes out of my car."

"You keep extra clothes in your car?" Sara asked in disbelief.

"Of course," he said, equally incredulous. "I have a bag with clothes and toiletries in my trunk. Don't you?"

"Why would I?"

"In case you need to change at work."

"That's why I keep clothes in my locker," Sara replied.

"You never know what might happen at a scene," Grissom said sagely as he pulled on the pants that had been on Sara's dresser. "I'll go grab my clothes from my car. I'll be right back."

Sara smiled but shook her head. "What else do you keep in your car?"

He grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Maybe."

"_Maybe_ you'll find out … someday."

Sara shook her head again as he walked out of the room. She pulled herself out of bed, and went into the bathroom. Even if she wasn't showering first, she certainly needed to have clean teeth.

When Grissom came back inside carrying a duffle bag, Sara was in the kitchen filling a pot with water. He paused to watch her.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

"I'm going to make us dinner," she replied. "Go shower. It should be ready by the time you're done."

"Would you rather I helped?"

She rolled her eyes. "I can handle heating sauce from a jar, dear. Go. The towels are in the cabinet in the bathroom. Feel free to use any of the soaps, shampoos, toothpaste, or makeup that you'd like."

Grissom laughed. "Wow, thanks. I've been trying to find a good time to ask if I could use your mascara."

Sara laughed with him. "Enjoy your shower, Griss."

Grissom winked at her. "Okay. I'll see you in a minute."

When Grissom returned from his shower, Sara was pouring noodles into her boiling water. He smiled at her.

"Hey, Rachael Ray."

She looked up and smiled. She had certainly seen Grissom "just out of the shower" over the years – they worked in an environment that lent itself to showering mid-shift and walking around with wet hair for several hours. However, there was something about knowing that his hair was wet from _her_ shower that was … very appealing.

"Hey, yourself," she smiled.

"What are you making?" he asked, coming up behind her and peering over her shoulder into the pot.

"Noodles," she said.

"Noodles?"

"Yes. The kind you cover in a sauce that Emeril was kind enough to whip up for us."

Grissom grinned. "Such a nice guy."

"Indeed," Sara smiled.

"How can I help?"

She shrugged. "I think I've got it under control."

She certainly did. Within fifteen minutes, they were sitting at her table with plates of pasta in front of them. Grissom smiled at her as he twirled his spaghetti around his fork.

"Thank you for dinner."

"Well, it was the least I could do," Sara replied. "You did go the extra mile for me."

"I wanted to," Grissom said quietly.

Sara flushed. No one had ever wanted to do anything like that for her before. It made her feel so good to know that Grissom was there for her.

"I have plans for us for after dinner," Grissom said.

"Do they involve me taking a shower?"

He grinned. "They can. We'll call them my plans for after your shower, then."

"What are we doing?"

"We're going out."

"Out where?"

He shook his head. "That part is a surprise."

"Okay," Sara said, her eyes twinkling. She was most definitely up for a surprise. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready."

* * *

Grissom insisted on cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. Sara was reluctant to let him do all the work, but, he won her over by pointing out that she could shower while he did the dishes, which meant that they could leave for his mystery destination sooner. Pacified, Sara left him alone in the kitchen and disappeared into the bathroom.

Less than an hour later, Grissom and Sara left her apartment hand in hand. He led her to his car and unlocked her door.

"So, are you going to tell me where we're going now?" Sara asked as Grissom opened the passenger door for her.

"Such impatience," he smiled, closing the door.

Sara leaned across to unlock his door. "Is that a no?" she asked as he sat down.

He chuckled. "You're worse than a four-year-old."

"You're mean," she smiled.

He wrinkled his nose. "Insult me all you want. It's not going to work."

Sara sighed and resigned herself to being surprised. "Okay. Let's go."

Grissom smiled at her, and reversed out of his parking space. He hoped that she would like his surprise. He had wanted to do this with her for awhile, but the timing was never right. It had finally worked out.

He really, really hoped she'd like it.

Sara leaned forward and turned on the radio. She fiddled with the dials for a moment, then sat back. Grissom glanced sideways at her as the sounds of Kelly Clarkson filled his car.

"Top forty?"

"You have a problem with it?"

He sighed. "No, dear. Of course not."

Sara laughed. "I didn't realize that we got married thirty years ago."

"What?" Grissom frowned.

"You sound like half of an old married couple."

He grinned. "Well, I suppose there are worse fates."

"Some," Sara smiled. She paused. "Do you really hate top forty that much?"

"I'll deal with it," he replied.

"I can turn it," she said, already leaning forward.

"No, Sara, it's fine. Leave it."

"I'll find something we both like," she said, skimming through the stations. She finally landed on the classic rock station. "How's this?"

He smiled. "Much better."

Sara grinned. "Looks like I've found the way to your heart."

Grissom glanced at her with a smile. He didn't say anything, but reached across to hold her hand. Sara smiled back at him, and laced her fingers through his.

She wondered if she had found true happiness.

Grissom finally turned off the highway, taking them through a maze of side streets. Sara was sure she had been in the area before, but she wasn't exactly sure of where they were.

"You do have a destination in mind, right?" she joked.

"Yes, dear."

"You're not just taking us out for a drive?"

"With the price of gas? Perish the thought."

Sara grinned. "Okay. I'll go back to waiting like a patient little girl."

"Good girl," he smiled.

After what felt like forever, Grissom pulled off into a small, unpaved parking lot. Only one other car was there. Sara looked at him with raised eyebrows as he turned off the car.

"Um …?"

"Don't even try," he said. "Come on. Let's go."

Shrugging slightly, Sara opened her door and climbed out of the car. Once they were both out, Grissom opened the trunk. He pulled out a blanket, then slammed it closed again.

"Another of the treasures from your trunk?" Sara asked.

Grissom smiled. "I told you I have more than clothes in there." He grabbed her hand. "Come on."

Sara smiled back and let him lead her down a rough, narrow trail through a grove of old, well-established trees. As they stepped out into a clearing, she gasped.

"I know where we are!"

"Oh, really?" Grissom asked, turning to face her with a smile.

"This is near that crime scene we processed," she said. "The one you said was a good place for star gazing."

He gave her a sly smile. "You mean, the one _you_ said was a good place for making out."

Sara's eyes widened and a slow smile spread across her face. "Dr. Grissom, are you trying to seduce me?"

He grinned and spread the blanket on the ground. "Well, I'm certainly trying to make out with you. Are you going to come down here and let me try a little harder?"

Sara dropped down onto the blanket next to him, and grabbed his face in her hands. "I don't think you really need to keep trying."

She pressed her lips against his in a heated kiss. He responded instantly, gently pushing her back until she was lying on the blanket. He followed her down, carefully arranging himself on top of her.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"God, yes," Sara moaned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

Laughing, Grissom kissed her again.

Their kisses full of lips, tongues and hands went on and on. It had been a long time since Sara had experienced something so sensual, yet so innocent. She had to admit that it was incredibly fun.

Their make out session was abruptly ended by voices that were far too close for comfort. While two teenagers would not have minded being discovered in such a position, two adults _did_ mind – very much. They reluctantly pulled apart, laughing at the sight of each other. Sara's hair was a tousled mess, while Grissom's was standing straight up. Both of them sported red, swollen lips and flushed cheeks. Their clothes were a mess, with more than a few buttons undone. Laughing, they redressed themselves and tried to smooth their hair. Then, they lay down together on the blanket, both on their backs. Sara laid her head on Grissom's shoulder. He smiled at her, and took her hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

"This is nice," Sara said. "Thank you for bringing me."

"You're welcome."

She looked up at the sky, trying to count the stars. "It's so peaceful out here."

"Mm-hmm."

"It makes you feel … hopeful."

"Hopeful?" Grissom asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Sara said. "Like you could do absolutely anything, and it would work out. Like anything is possible."

"You make me feel like that," Grissom said quietly.

Sara twisted her head to look up at him. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He swallowed, and looked up at the sky. "Sara, I have to confess something."

Sara sat up and looked down at him. "What?"

He sat up with her, and looked into her eyes. "At that hospital, when Adam had you in that nurses' station … I was scared out of my mind. I've never felt so helpless, or so out of control." He paused, and when he continued, his voice was even quieter. "In those moments, Sara, I realized something. I realized that I want to be with you. Not as a coworker, not as a friend … as something more."

Sara's eyes grew wide, and a sparkle jumped into them. "What are you saying, Grissom?"

"I'm saying … I'm asking …" Grissom said slowly. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Sara cocked her head to the side. "Would you like to be my boyfriend?"

"Yes," Grissom said softly. An unidentifiable emotion – fear, maybe? – filled his eyes. "Unless you don't want … Sara, do you want me to be your boyfriend? Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

"You know, you were wrong."

Panic, fear, pain, humiliation and a hundred other emotions filled Grissom's eyes as they crossed his face. A deep red flush spread across his cheeks. "Oh. I … um …"

"You told me that there are no stupid questions," Sara said.

"That … um … I suppose …"

Her face broke into a beaming smile. "Well, what you just asked me … that was a stupid question."

"What?"

She grinned, if possible, even wider. "Griss, I've wanted to be your girlfriend since we first met. I've just been waiting for you to want the same thing."

The panic, the fear, the pain and the humiliation left his face as he relaxed into a smile that rivaled hers. He couldn't say anything to her; he was quite sure that he was incapable of speech. Instead, he closed the distance between them and kissed her.

Sara broke the kiss and smiled, leaning her forehead against his. "Thank you."

"Thank you?" Grissom repeated. "For what?"

"For making me so happy."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "You make me happy, too."


	26. Relationship Shifts

A/N: A weekend update, as promised! And, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know, it's longer than the last chapter I posted. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 522, "Weeping Willows."

* * *

_Relationship Shifts_

Sara was never sure how she managed to wait until six o'clock in the morning before picking up the phone. She and Grissom stayed out late, to be sure, but she was still back home by three. That meant three whole hours of being awake, replaying every wonderful moment of their evening together before she could share it with anyone. Accustomed to her nocturnal schedule, the idea of sleeping would have been laughable even if she hadn't been so excited.

Finally, finally, _finally_, the slow-moving hands of the clock reached six. That meant it was nine on the east coast, which was certainly late enough to call. Wasn't it?

Beyond the point of caring, Sara picked up her phone and pressed the familiar numbers. She waited for three long rings before it was answered.

"Hello?"

"Mary?"

"Sara?"

"You'll never guess what's happened!"

Mary laughed. "Well, I'm sure I can't. And, knowing that it's you telling me the story, it's going to be awhile before I find out."

"Grissom asked me to be his girlfriend!"

"Wow!" Mary exclaimed. "I don't know if it's the news or the fact that you managed to spit it out without an exceptionally long build-up, but I'm shocked!"

"Oh, stop it," Sara grinned.

Mary laughed. "Sara! This is great! What happened?"

"Oh, Mar, you'll never believe it all."

"Try me."

Sara spent the next fifteen minutes talking, giving her friend all the details. She described their case at Desert State and Adam Trent nearly killing her. She described Grissom bringing her home and her insistence that he stay with her. She described waking up next to him and _his_ insistence that she call off. She told her all about their drive out to the woods, and making out under the stars, ending with his nervous request that they define their relationship.

"Oh, Sara," Mary finally sighed as Sara reached the end of her tale, "that's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

Sara giggled. "Even the part where I nearly died?"

"Okay, no, not that," Mary said. "Are you really, really sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sara said. "I was terrified at the time, and totally freaked out after, but then Griss stayed with me … Mary, he made me feel so … safe. So … taken care of."

"You just –"

"I know I ended my sentence with a preposition!" Sara laughed.

Mary laughed with her. "Well, I'm happy for you. I really, truly am."

"I knew you would be. I was so excited to call you."

Mary sighed happily. "So, I'm assuming the next time you call it will be to tell me that you're engaged, right?"

"I think it's a bit premature for that," Sara laughed. "Even if we make it to that point, I don't know how he'd ever ask me. You should have seen how nervous he was just asking me to be his girlfriend!"

"Well, maybe you'll have to ask him, Ms. Feminist."

"I could never do that!"

"Ha," Mary said. "So, your feminism _does_ have a limit."

"I suppose," Sara reluctantly admitted.

Mary laughed again, but ended with a sharp squeal.

"Are you all right?" Sara asked, alarmed.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mary said. "This baby's got pointy elbows."

Sara smiled. "How many more days?" Once she had hit the "one month to go!" mark, Mary had stopped counting in weeks.

"Ten days," Mary said. "I'm really hoping it'll be early, but my doctor says that probably won't happen. She said it's more likely to be late. But, I can dream, though, right?"

"You sure can," Sara grinned. "I'll dream right along with you."

"You'd better," Mary smiled. "I can't wait for my little one to meet Aunt Sara."

Sara grinned. "I can't wait, either."

* * *

When Grissom walked into the lab the next night, his nerves were jangling. It took a moment for him to recognize the feeling as excitement, and several more moments to identify the cause. His eyes widened as he realized that he was excited about seeing his girlfriend. He had to hide his smile at the thought. He had a girlfriend. A girlfriend who wouldn't be freaked out by his job or run from his bugs. A girlfriend who knew him and still wanted to be with him. A girlfriend who accepted him as he was. He couldn't possibly hide the smile that those thoughts produced. Sara was his girlfriend.

He found her sitting in the break room talking to Greg when he walked in to start their shift. He gave her a smile, which she returned with a grin.

"Okay," he said, "assignments."

"Hey, Griss, can I have a homicide?" Greg asked eagerly.

"How about a hit and run?" Grissom said, offering him a slip.

"Fatalities?"

"No."

"Oh," Greg said, glancing at Sara.

"You're on your own," Grissom added.

Greg looked at him in surprise.

"Sofia's away for that conference," Grissom said. "We're going to be running shorthanded until she gets back next week."

"What about Sara?"

"I have a date in night court," Sara said. "Should be quick, but you never know."

"Well, have fun with that," Greg said, getting up.

"I'm sure I will," Sara smiled. "Have fun playing in traffic."

Greg grinned and waved as he left.

"So, how are you?" Grissom asked, sitting down next to Sara.

"Great," she grinned. "You?"

"Never better," he said sincerely. He looked deeply into her eyes, knowing that he was falling, losing himself. As he began to lean toward her as if pulled by a magnet, his only thought was of how much he wanted to press his lips against hers. "Sara, I really want …"

"Yeah," she smiled, staring back into his eyes, "me, too."

"But …"

"Yeah."

He smiled helplessly. "What can we do?"

"You can come over after shift," she said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, standing up. "I'll even get us breakfast."

"I'll be there," he grinned.

"I'll be waiting."

With that, she left. Grissom stared after her for a moment, wondering how he had gotten so lucky.

* * *

Three hours later, he didn't feel so lucky anymore. With both Sara and Greg still gone, Grissom found himself the only one available to take a homicide. Knowing that he'd likely need backup, he did something he truly hated to do.

He called Catherine at home.

The poor woman had only left six hours before; it was unlikely that she had gotten much sleep. But, she was his backup when he was tapped out, and he desperately needed her help. He'd make it up to her.

He was already at the scene with David when Catherine arrived. She looked every bit the professional as she walked across the parking garage to join them at the body. He had known that she would. Catherine never showed signs of fatigue. Of all the CSIs he had known during his career, she was one of the best at hiding any physical issues.

"I appreciate this," Grissom said as she reached him. "Everyone's out; I'm short."

"You're welcome," Catherine replied.

They talked about the case for a moment, sharing observations about the body. Detective Vartann joined them, adding what information he had gleaned about the victim from the building manager.

Grissom looked at Catherine for a moment, noticing a cut on her cheek. "What happened to you?" he asked, indicating his own cheek.

"I walked into a door," she said, obviously wanting to move away from the topic. "Can we not talk about it?"

Grissom followed her request, and dropped the conversation. They returned to talking about the case. Within moments, Catherine left with Vartann to go to the Highball, the local bar where the victim's car had been found.

Grissom sent the body back to the morgue with David and headed for the bar. He had a feeling it would be a long night.

* * *

By the time they got back to the lab, Sara had returned from her court appearance. She was sitting in the break room, finishing a case report to hand in to Grissom, when he walked in.

"Hey," he smiled. "You're back."

"It was quicker than I thought," she grinned. "What can I do to help you?"

"Actually, could you go help Catherine?" he asked. "I called her in to back me up on a case, but she must be exhausted – I know she didn't have much time to sleep between leaving and coming back. I'm sure she'd appreciate the help."

"No problem. Where is she?"

"Layout room. She's processing the victim's clothes."

"That's where I'll be if you need me," Sara said, moving to leave the break room. She gave him a grin. "You know, as strange as this sounds, I miss working with Catherine. I know we had that whole … thing … awhile ago, but now … I miss her." She grinned. "I have the best story from court for her. She's going to love it." She gave him one last smile. "I'll see you."

"Sara," Grissom said, stopping her.

She paused in the doorway and turned to look at him. "Yes?"

He smiled. "Thanks."

Sara beamed back, knowing that far more than gratitude went into that word. "You're welcome."

She was still smiling when she reached the layout room, where Catherine was going over the victim's jacket. She glanced up as Sara walked in.

"Hey," she said. "Aren't you supposed to be in court?"

"I got done pretty quickly," Sara said, pulling on a pair of gloves. "How can I help you?"

"Can you go through her pockets for me?"

"Sure," Sara said, picking up the jeans that were lying on the table. "Griss said that he called you in. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"A little," Catherine replied, apparently distracted by her task. "How was court?"

"Okay," Sara said. She smiled slightly; this was the story she had wanted to tell Catherine. "So, Judge Wilson tells me I'd have better luck with a blue suit than a gray suit. What is that? Do you think he meant that? Do you think he was flirting with me, or …?"

"I thought judges were supposed to be colorblind," Catherine replied.

"Yeah, right. That's cute."

Catherine commented on something she had found on the jacket just as Sara finished pulling everything from the jeans pockets.

"Pocket contents: credit card, car keys, lipstick and one matchbook."

"Can I see that?" Catherine asked, looking at her with a very odd expression on her face.

"There's no name, just a phone number," Sara said, offering her the book. "I'll have Vartann run it down."

"You know, I have to go pick up Lindsey," Catherine said quite suddenly. "Could you cover for me?"

"Sure," Sara said, surprised by the sudden change in Catherine.

"Thanks," Catherine replied, nearly already out the door.

"Tell her I said hey," Sara called after her.

Catherine raised her hand in acknowledgement, but didn't stop or turn around. Sara frowned, but continued to process the clothes alone.

She was still at it nearly an hour later when Grissom popped in.

"Hi," he said. "What happened to Catherine?"

"She had to go get Lindsey," Sara replied.

"Oh," Grissom said with a slight shrug. He sat down next to her at the table. "Finding anything?"

"I got a phone number out of a matchbook that was in her pocket," Sara said. "I'm going to give it to Vartann. We'll see if he can come up with something. Catherine found something for Hodges to play with on the jacket. Other than that, nothing yet."

"Well, that's quite a bit," Grissom said, standing up. "Where's the stuff for Hodges?"

"Right there."

"I'll take it to him for you."

"Thanks," Sara smiled.

"Anytime."

* * *

To say that suspects poured in would be an exaggeration, but they did find two quite quickly. The first was the victim's brother, who was the owner of a gun found in her car. He explained that he had given it to his sister to protect herself from her ex-boyfriend, who, according to him, was stalking her.

Catherine volunteered to go with Vartann to track him down. Grissom had to admit that he was surprised by how eager she was to interview the suspects in this case. Not that she was normally reluctant to do so, but she seemed more interested than she usually did. He brushed it aside, however, and continued working through the scientific side of the case.

The ex-boyfriend, while he had been tracking the victim with a GPS device on her car, swore that he had not seen her since she had placed a restraining order against him. The GPS was enough to make him look guilty; Catherine called Grissom to tell him that she and Vartann were bringing him in for questioning.

"Do you want me to take it?" he asked.

"No, that's fine," she replied. "I've been with him this whole time; I'll do it."

"Thanks, Cath."

"I know, I know," she said. "You owe me."

"I do. Name your price."

"To be named later," she laughed. "Hey, Gil, I'm at PD. I'll talk to you when I get back."

"Okay."

They both hung up, and Grissom returned to studying the victim's phone records. He needed to find someone else that might have harmed her.

He had just finished his task when his phone rang. He picked it up almost absently.

"Grissom."

"Hey, Grissom, it's Mia."

"You're calling me from down the hall?"

"Whatever. Listen, I have a situation … I think you should come over here."

"I'm on my way," he said, hanging up his phone. While she was spastic about germs, Mia was not one who was prone to panicking for no good reason. What she called a "situation" most people would call a "crisis."

He nearly ran into Catherine as he turned to leave his office.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked.

"We've got a problem over in DNA," he said, walking past her.

"O-kay," she said slowly, following him out, "it's really only going to take a minute. Um … I just need to have a conversation with you."

"First thing's first," Grissom said, turning into Mia's lab.

Mia explained, in a rather roundabout way, that all the DNA evidence she had processed in the last forty-eight hours had been contaminated by the DNA of an unknown male. Grissom and Catherine were both floored; this would take forever to undo. Mia would have to spend hours reprocessing everything. She would need help.

Grissom left the DNA lab and walked down the hall. He found Greg hanging up the phone.

"You've wrapped your case?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I was just on the phone with PD to help Catherine out."

"Good," Grissom replied. "I need you to go help Mia."

Greg's eyebrows shot up. "Mia? Needs help?"

"Mia needs to reprocess everything from the last two days," Grissom replied. "Cross-contamination."

"Holy shit."

Grissom smiled. "I'm glad you can appreciate the magnitude of the situation."

"Yeah, I'll help her," Greg said, getting out of his chair. "But, I'll tell you right now, if I sneeze in her lab, she'll have me out of there forever."

"So, don't sneeze," Grissom replied.

Shaking his head, Greg left the room. He had barely gone when Sara came in.

"Hey, Vartann found our matchbook man," she said. "His name is Adam Novak. They're bringing him to PD right now."

"Good," Grissom said. "Have you told Catherine?"

"I haven't seen her yet."

"Okay. I'll head over to PD now. Let her know."

"All right."

Grissom smiled at her and left. It was his turn to run an interrogation.

* * *

Adam Novak, a public defender, admitted to giving out his work number on matchbooks to plenty of girls at the bar. Grissom gave him a picture of the victim; he admitted that he had bought her a drink the night before.

"Okay," Vartann said, "why don't you walk us through your evening? Start with, 'I left the office …'"

"I was deposing a witness," Novak said. "Left the office late. Stopped at the Peppermill for a burger – medium rare, no onions. Got to the Highball around eleven. Met this redhead. Bought her a drink."

He stopped abruptly as the door opened and Catherine walked in. Grissom looked up at her, wondering what evidence she had brought.

"Mr. Novak," she said, holding herself up as straight as she could, "I'm Catherine Willows, CSI."

Novak looked at her for a moment, then at Vartann, as if he expected him to refute her statement. He looked back at Catherine.

"Wanna know what happened next?" he asked. "Ask the redhead."

Moving as one, Grissom and Vartann slowly turned their heads to look at Catherine. Grissom looked at her with wide eyes, almost imploring her to deny his claims. When she remained silent, Grissom turned back to the men seated at the table with him.

"Would you excuse us?" he asked, standing up.

He stepped away from the table, touching Catherine's arm as he passed her. She took the hint and followed him into the observation room.

"Gil, I …"

Grissom shook his head and indicated the interrogation room, where Vartann was telling Novak to continue his story. Grissom had to admit that wanting to watch the interrogation was only part of his motivation for silencing Catherine. He truly just wasn't sure that he was ready to hear what she was going to say. At the moment, he felt, in some strange way, like she had betrayed him.

They stood in silence, watching as Vartann got Novak to open up. Novak gave him every last sordid detail of his evening with Catherine, from the drink he bought her to the passionate kiss they shared when he walked her to her car. He ended his story by telling Vartann that Catherine had changed her mind at the last minute.

"One minute she's got her tongue down my throat, the next, she's putting on the brakes," he said. "She's a bitch and a tease."

Grissom flinched at that. He had listened to hundreds of suspects say hundreds of things about the police and his team before, but he had never heard anything like _that_ said about one of his CSIs. What made it worse was that Catherine stood next to him silently, listening to this man destroy her reputation without comment. She was not saying one word to deny what he said, which, in Grissom's opinion, meant that it was likely true.

"We should ask for his clothes," she said. "Black leather jacket, black t-shirt, jeans."

"What else should we ask him, Catherine?" Grissom asked, keeping his eyes trained on the interrogation.

"This is what I was trying to tell you," she said.

"Yeah, but you didn't," Grissom said, still not looking at her. "So, now I'm way behind." He paused. "Is he telling the truth?"

"He's not lying about anything that pertains to me," Catherine said.

Grissom let the events of the night roll over in his mind, and found his stream of thought ending with the bruise on Catherine's cheek. _I walked into a door_ floated through his head. After all that Sara had told him about her family … He finally turned to look at her. "He hit you?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

"No, it was an accident," Catherine replied. "But … by the time it happened … He wasn't who I thought he was. That scared me."

At the moment, Grissom could completely understand the feeling.

The interrogation ended with Novak's request for a lawyer. He left the interrogation room; Grissom and Catherine left the observation room shortly after.

"You have to recuse yourself from processing evidence. This guy's a lawyer; he could claim prejudicial treatment. Your whole life would become public record," Grissom said.

"I have nothing to be ashamed of," Catherine replied.

"We all live in glass houses, Catherine," Grissom said. "You have to be careful where you take your shower."

He knew that she stopped and stared at him in disbelief, but he kept walking. At the moment, he didn't care what their past was or what good friends they were. He couldn't believe that she would do something like this – something that could ruin both her life and the lab.

* * *

As the evidence against Adam Novak mounted, Grissom became angrier and angrier with Catherine. He knew that it wasn't exactly fair to be so mad at her – after all, she had not gone out looking to run into a murder suspect at a bar. She had gone out to unwind. She was trying to maintain something of a life. It was something that he had nearly forced Sara to do so many years ago.

Maybe that was the difference between Sara and Catherine. One was completely dedicated to her job, while the other was desperate to maintain her life outside work. Was one right and one wrong? He thought so, but he wasn't sure it was a judgment he should make.

To everyone's great relief, the murderer turned out to be the victim's ex-boyfriend, who had flown into a rage after seeing her kiss Novak outside the bar. Grissom had never been so happy to close a case in his life.

Walking through the lab, he came upon Mia, who was in the storage room, throwing away boxes of swabs. She explained that she had found the source of the contamination: someone in the manufacturing plant had neglected to wear his mask and then coughed or sneezed on the supposedly sterile swabs. Grissom, although a bit disgusted by the amount of time Mia would have to spend rounding up all the swabs in the lab and how much money it would cost to replace them, couldn't help but see the irony in the fact that germ-phobic Mia had been using something that someone had sneezed on.

He left her to her task and started down the hall again.

"Gil."

He paused at the sound of his name and saw Catherine coming toward him. She joined him on his walk down the hall and gave him a smile that he did not return.

"I'd ask you out for a drink, but, well, under the circumstances …" she said in a light attempt at humor.

Grissom remained silent and looked away from her.

"Okay, how long is this going to go on?" she asked.

"I don't know, Catherine," he replied honestly.

"Gil, it was an act of omission."

"How many times have we heard a public defender say _that_?"

Catherine stared at him open-mouthed. "I went out after work," she nearly exclaimed. "Is it a crime to want a little human contact?"

"I guess that's why I don't go out," Grissom replied.

Once again, he walked away, leaving her staring after him.

* * *

As the case dragged on, the breakfast that Sara had promised Grissom disappeared into staying late at work. She had just become convinced that they'd never see each other outside of work again when they ran into each other in the locker room.

"Hey," he grinned. He glanced around, making sure they were alone. "I'm sorry we didn't get to have breakfast."

"It's fine," Sara said. "Listen, I'm pretty much done. Are you almost ready to leave?"

"I need to stay an hour or so later."

"Okay," she said, looking at her watch. "Do you want to make it dinner?"

Grissom smiled. "Dinner would be great."

"Perfect. Come over when you're done here." She smiled. "And, after you take care of Hank."

"I'll call you when I leave the lab. Will that give you enough time?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said, his eyes caressing her face. "I'll see you soon, then."

"I'll be waiting."

With one last smile, Grissom left her alone in the locker room. After all that had happened, the promise of dinner with Sara was just what he needed to get through the rest of the night.

Sara could hardly wait. She left before he did, racing home to have everything ready.

* * *

Grissom sat at his desk. He just needed to finish one last thing, and then he could leave and enjoy a few hours with Sara before he had to be back at work again. He was nearly done when his office door slammed shut.

"Okay, you know what? I am tired of your bullshit."

Grissom's head snapped up as Catherine stormed across his office.

"I do not want to be _you_," she spat. "We've been through this before. I am not the type of person who can live cut off from society like you can. I need to connect with people. I need to feel like I'm not alone in the world. I need to have a life, Grissom. If you can live the life of an exceptionally antisocial hermit, more power to you, but do not try to force your life on me."

"This isn't about my life or your life, Catherine," he said.

"The hell it isn't!" she yelled. "You're judging me because of the way I live my life."

"No, I'm not," he said.

"Then, tell me what the problem is."

"We all make choices," he said calmly. "You chose to go out. You chose to nearly pick up a man – a complete stranger, who could have been a murderer – at a bar. You chose to leave him, too, which was probably for the best."

She stared at him, hating the fact that he could remain so calm.

"Our choices all have consequences, Catherine. Sometimes they only affect us. Sometimes, they affect more people. In your case, your decisions could have hurt you, your career and the lab."

"The lab," she repeated in disbelief. "Who are you? Ecklie?"

"No," he said slowly. "Ecklie only cares about the lab's reputation. I care about the lab itself."

"So, this lab matters to you more than our friendship?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Am I?" she asked. "You know what? Do whatever you want. Maintain your life as a paragon of virtue. Maybe, one day, I can have as sterling a reputation as yours." She turned to leave, but paused with her hand on the doorknob. "But, remember – those pedestals can be pretty high and pretty lonely."

She left the office. Grissom looked at the door for a moment, then shook his head.

He knew that she'd be over this entire fight within a few days. He just wasn't sure that he'd be over it as quickly.

* * *

Sara, not in the mood to cook, ordered Chinese to serve for her dinner with Grissom. She was a firm believer that presentation was half the battle when it came to dinner events; she was running through her apartment looking for candles to put on the table when her phone rang. Distracted, she picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Aunt Sara."

_Aunt Sara?_ "Mary?" she asked.

"I'm a mommy!" Mary exclaimed.

Sara gave a shriek of delight. "You had the baby?"

"I did," Mary said. "About five hours ago."

"Boy or girl?" Sara asked.

"We have a little girl," Mary said happily. "She's seven pounds even, and eighteen inches long."

"Oh, Mary, that's wonderful!" Sara exclaimed. "I'm so happy for you! What's her name?"

"Josephine."

"You named her Josephine?" Sara asked in shock. In all the lists of Christinas, Avas, Laurens and Courtneys Sara had heard, she was sure Josephine had never been an option.

"Today was Tom's favorite grandmother's birthday," Mary sighed. "How could I fight that? Anyway, we're going to call her Josie."

"That's cute," Sara smiled. "Just Josephine? No middle name?"

"No," Mary said. "She's Josephine Sara."

Sara felt tears slowly filling her eyes. "Really?" she asked, her voice catching.

"Really," Mary said. "Sara, you're the best friend I've ever had. You're the reason I met my husband. I wanted to name my daughter for you, and, even more than that …"

"What?" Sara nearly whispered.

"Tom and I would like for you to be Josie's godmother."

"Oh, Mary," Sara said. "I'd be honored."

"I'm so glad. I was so nervous …"

Sara smiled. "I'll do anything for you, Mar. You know that."

"Yeah."

"Well, listen, I'm sure you're exhausted," Sara said. "So, I won't keep you. Just … give that baby a kiss for me."

"I will," Mary promised. "You'll be out to meet her soon, won't you?"

"If I can convince my boss to give me the time off," Sara smiled.

"I'm sure you'll manage it. Besides, you'll need to be here next month for her baptism."

"I'll definitely have that time," Sara said. "You go sleep now, Mary. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Sara hung up the phone and stared at it. She couldn't believe how much her life had changed in the past few days.

* * *

Grissom felt completely agitated as he drove from his house to Sara's. Even taking the dog for a walk, normally a calming activity, hadn't helped. He couldn't believe what Catherine had done, and more than that, her attitude about it.

Even more than that, he couldn't believe how much their relationship had changed without him realizing it. A year ago, she would have made the time to tell him what had happened. Now …

He walked up to Sara's front door and knocked. It was as if one relationship developed, the other unraveled. He needed to fix it. As angry as he was, he knew that he and Catherine would always be friends. He just needed some time to get to the place where he could handle fixing it. And, he was sure that talking it all over with Sara over dinner would make it better.

She threw the door open with more enthusiastic force than he had ever seen. She was beaming at him, her eyes completely lit up. As much as he would have loved to believe it, he knew that her excitement had very little to do with him.

"Guess what?" Sara shrieked.

"I can't," Grissom smiled, stepping into her apartment and closing the door behind him. "Tell me."

"Mary had her baby!"

"That's great!" Grissom said, his face relaxing into a grin. "Boy or girl?"

"Girl," Sara replied. "I knew it would be."

"But, I thought she didn't find out the gender."

"Oh, she didn't," Sara interrupted. "I just knew."

Grissom smiled. "Never question the psychic link between friends."

"Exactly."

"So, what's her name?"

"Josephine. They're calling her Josie, though."

"Just Josephine?"

Sara flushed. "Josephine Sara," she nearly whispered.

Grissom gave her a beaming smile. "What a wonderful honor."

"There's more."

"More?"

"Mary asked me to be her godmother," she beamed.

Grissom smiled at the sight of Sara's face all lit up with excitement. "I thought you weren't religious?"

She shrugged. "I know. But, Mary is, and she wants me to be her godmother. She asked me to come in for the baptism next month."

Grissom nodded slowly. "If you have the dates already, it won't be a problem for us to get the time off."

"Us?" Sara questioned, hardly daring to hope that he meant what it sounded like he meant.

Grissom frowned slightly. "Well, I just thought … If you don't want me to go along, that's fine. I can completely understand …"

He was stopped by Sara's lips pressed against his. He smiled against her lips and pulled her closer to kiss her more thoroughly.

"I can't believe you," she said. "You are too incredibly wonderful."

He smiled, still holding her close. "Sara, this is a big day for you. Of course I want to be there with you."

Sara smiled at him, her eyes suddenly over bright. Unsure of what to say, she leaned up to press her lips against his again.

Sara kept kissing him, and his thoughts drifted away from Catherine and their fight. He would tell Sara about it later. For now, they could celebrate her happiness.


	27. Terror

A/N: This chapter turned out to be far more fun that I had thought it might be. I hope you enjoy it!

Oh, and this is a promise: I'll update again this weekend. Once you hit the end, you'll see why I wanted to make that clear.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is borrowed from episode 523, "Iced." Additional inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 524, "Grave Danger" (Volume 1).

* * *

_Terror _

"Hi."

Grissom looked up from his desk as Sara walked into his office. He gave her a bright smile. "Hello."

"I have our report on the death of those two college kids," she said, sliding the file across his desk.

"Thanks," he replied. "Greg said it involved a lot of dry ice."

"That it did." Sara sat down across from him, but made no move to continue the conversation.

"Are you all right?" Grissom asked, thinking that she looked like a woman who needed to talk about … something.

Sara sighed. "I don't think I had a real college experience."

Grissom frowned. "What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"I think I really missed out," she said. "I was so into my academics that I almost didn't pay attention to the social atmosphere."

"Sara, you became friends with a girl who just asked you to be her baby's godmother. I'd say you had some social experiences." He grinned slyly. "And, didn't you tell me that it was during a spring break trip that you became a member of the mile high club?"

Sara flushed. "You didn't have to remember that."

"Yeah. Like I'd forget something like that."

She grinned. "Whatever. I guess it's just … spending all that time in that dorm, I realized how much I never noticed. The cliques. The petty battles. The trophy condoms."

"The what?"

She grinned. "Thank God. I thought I was the only one who had never heard of such a thing."

"Care to explain?"

She grinned and got up. "Why don't you ask Greg or Mia? They seem quite well-versed in the concept."

"So, you're just leaving?" Grissom asked.

Sara grinned. "Yeah. Shift's over. I'm going home. But, before I do …" She leaned across his desk, putting her cheek against his as she whispered in his ear, "I'm so glad we've found each other."

She straightened up, noticing the deep red of his cheeks. Smiling serenely at him, she walked back toward the door.

"Sara?"

She paused in the doorway and turned to look at him again.

Grissom gave her a gentle smile. "Me, too."

* * *

"Hey, Nicky."

Nick's face lit up in a smile. "Hi, gorgeous. I haven't seen you in awhile."

"I know," Sara sighed, opening her locker to put her purse inside. "I miss you guys."

"Well, we miss you, too," Nick replied. He glanced around. "Hey, maybe you can help me out."

"Of course. What do you need?"

Nick smiled. "A little gossip."

Sara's eyes widened. "Gossip?" she repeated, hoping that her expression stayed as neutral as she wanted. "What kind of gossip?"

"Well … something's up with Grissom and Catherine."

Sara frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I haven't seen them speak to each other in a week."

"What?"

"It's true," said a third voice.

They both turned as Warrick came into the locker room. He smiled.

"You two really need to make sure that people can't walk in on you when you're having secret gossip sessions."

Nick laughed. "I should have blocked the door."

"Well, it's just me," Warrick said. He cleared his throat. "Haven't you noticed anything, Sara?"

Sara shook her head. "I've been working a case with Greg all week," she said. "I really haven't even seen Grissom and Catherine together at all. But, considering we work different shifts now, I didn't think anything of it."

"Well, start watching," Nick said. "See if you notice anything."

"Or, just ask Griss," Warrick said, giving her a wink.

"Yeah, that'll work," Nick laughed. "You know how open he is about stuff like that."

"Why don't you guys ask Catherine?" Sara suggested.

They looked at each other and shook their heads.

"She's not the same," Nick said.

"Becoming a supervisor has changed her," Warrick said in a tone that left no question as to his feelings on the matter. "I miss the old Catherine."

Sara slammed her locker shut. "I'm not gonna lie, guys – sometimes, I think that Greg and I really won when it comes to the supervisor draw."

"Yeah," Warrick smiled. "Can you imagine what would have happened if it had gone the other way?"

He and Nick both started laughing. Sara looked confused.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You, taking orders from Catherine?" Warrick asked incredulously. "I'd pay to see that."

Sara made a face at him. "So, this is the best you can do for gossip? Grissom and Catherine _might_ be in a fight?"

"You expected more?"

"Greg would have more."

Nick looked at Warrick. "Well, Warrick has a new girlfriend."

"Do you?" Sara exclaimed. She smacked Warrick's chest. "You never tell me anything!"

"Well, look who's talking," Warrick teased. "How long did you date that EMT before we heard a word about it?"

She smiled, knowing that he was fairly accurate with that accusation. "So, will you give me details?"

"Her name is Tina," he said. "She's a doctor. We've been seeing each other for a couple months."

"O-oh, a _doctor_," Sara grinned. "Are you looking to be a kept man, Warrick?"

He laughed. "Yeah. We'll see about that."

She smiled. "So, you have anything on Nick for me?"

"Nah. I'm sure he'd tell you, anyway."

"I sure would," Nick grinned. He put his arm around Sara and kissed her cheek with a loud smack. "Sara's my best girl."

"For today," she laughed. "Look, guys, this has been fun, but I've got to go get my assignment from my supervisor. I'll see you two later."

"Don't forget to tell us if you get any information!"

"I'll be sure to tell you," she laughed.

Sara left her friends in the locker room, and made her way to the break room, where Greg and Sofia were already seated. She smiled as she sat down with them.

"Running behind?" Greg teased.

"I got held up in the locker room," Sara said. "Nick and Warrick were poking around for gossip."

"And?"

"Warrick's dating a doctor, but that's all I have for you."

"Well, that's more than I have on you," Greg said.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Greg, how many times will I have to ask you to give it up?"

"I'm sure that won't be the last," he grinned.

"Hi, everyone," Grissom said as he entered the break room. "Greg, Sofia, you're headed to the Tangiers to check out a dead body in a guest room."

Greg's eyes lit up. "Trick roll?"

Sofia laughed. "Down, boy. It could just be an old man who died in his sleep."

"What, are you on Sara's team? Trying to destroy my dreams?"

Sofia laughed. "Come on. Let's go find out what happened."

"Hey, can I drive?" Greg asked as they stood up.

Sofia gave him an amused smile. "I suppose."

"Sara never lets me drive," he said. He looked back at Sara. "I love Sofia more than you!"

"Fine," she laughed. "I'm sure you'll be very happy together!"

Laughing, they left the room. Sara turned to Grissom.

"And what do you have for me?"

"You're coming with me," he said. "Evidence of a murder in an abandoned warehouse."

"Oh, no," Sara said. "Another one of these? Blood but no body?"

"Looks like."

"All right. Let's go."

Grissom smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. "Will you let me drive?"

Sara laughed. "You're the boss."

* * *

They settled themselves in the SUV, letting the sounds of Jimi Hendrix fill the vehicle, and Grissom pulled out onto the highway. Sara turned in her seat to look at him.

"So, we're working a case together."

"Yes," he said, glancing at her. He smiled. "Missing Greg already?"

She grinned and laid her hand on his thigh. "More like happy to spend time with my boyfriend." She let the last word roll off her tongue, loving the way it sounded.

Grissom smiled, flushing slightly. "I'm glad to spend time with you, too." He put his hand over hers, letting his thumb slide slowly across it.

"So, did you find out what a trophy condom is?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I did," Grissom replied.

"Did you ask Greg?"

"No," he replied. "I looked it up online."

Sara laughed. "Of course."

Grissom shook his head. "I don't know, Sara … if that's the only experience you 'missed out on,' then I think you're doing pretty well."

Sara grinned. "I guess so. At least I know that you didn't have it, either."

"I certainly did not," he said rather primly.

Sara laughed again, then sobered. "Can I ask you something?"

"I suppose."

Sara drew a deep breath. "I talked to Nick and Warrick today."

Grissom looked at her, his eyes narrowing with concern. "Sara … you're not thinking of switching to swing to be with them, are you?"

"Are you kidding?" she exclaimed. "God, no. I'd never leave you."

Grissom smiled, relaxing. "Sorry. I guess I jumped to an unfortunate conclusion."

"You could say that," Sara said, shaking her head. "We were just chatting, that's all. No discussion of switching shifts."

"Good. So, you had a question?"

"Right," she said. "They told me that you and Catherine are fighting."

"Oh," Grissom said.

"Oh?" Sara repeated. "So, it's true, then?

"Yes," Grissom admitted rather reluctantly.

"Griss! Why didn't you tell me? What's going on?"

Grissom sighed. "I was going to tell you."

"Huh."

"No, really! I was going to tell you about it last week, when I went over to your house for dinner after shift. But, then I got there, and you had just talked to Mary, and were all excited about the baby, and … well … I couldn't tell you about a fight. Not then."

"And the _week_ since then?" she asked pointedly.

Grissom sighed. "I didn't want to think about it. Talking about it would require thinking about it."

"Griss, look. It's not that I expect you to tell me everything that happens every second of every day. But, this … this is pretty big. And it's not really something that I wanted to hear from Nick and Warrick. I'd rather hear it from you."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to upset you."

She shook her head. "Not hearing it from you is far more upsetting to me than knowing that you and Catherine are fighting." She smiled. "It's not like it's something I've never done."

Grissom smiled slightly and shook his head. "Well, it wasn't a pretty battle."

"Will you tell me about it?"

He sighed. "You know that case I called her in for last week? The one with the girl found dead in the parking garage?"

"Yeah," Sara said slowly. "We accused a public defender of murdering her, right?"

"Yes," Grissom nodded. "Funny you should mention him …"

"Why?"

"He's the main cause of our fight."

"Um … Griss, are you telling me that you're leaving me for a man? Assuming that you can win him away from Catherine?"

"No," he smiled, appreciating her attempt to keep the conversation light. "As it turned out, Catherine went out for a drink between work and going home. While she was at the bar, she met Mr. Novak - the public defender. To hear him tell it, she nearly went home with him, but changed her mind at the last minute."

"Did she agree with his story?"

"Yes," Grissom said slowly.

"Okay," Sara said just as slowly. "So, where does the fight come in?"

"Sara, the man was a murder suspect. Any evidence that Catherine touched was, in regard to him, tainted. We could never have taken it to trial. Had he been the killer, he would have gone free. And, in the process of trying to make the charges stick, Catherine's entire life would have come under fire – and, the lab along with it."

"So, you're mad because she made out with the wrong guy?"

Grissom, thankful that the light in front of him was red, turned to look at her. "What?"

"Look, I'm in no position to judge you," Sara said quickly. "I never have judged you and I never will. But, you and I … we both have lived rather … career-driven lives. We're not the type to go to a bar alone after work, hoping to meet someone. Even in college, I was not that girl. The only guys I ever dated were ones I met in a class or through some other academic pursuit." She grinned at him, her eyes twinkling. "Now, I suppose we could add 'work' to that list."

He gave her a half smile.

"But, Griss, Catherine's not like us. She has her daughter, and … well … she's more like Nick and Warrick. She's more likely to … date … people she hasn't met through work."

"So, you're saying that I'm judging her?"

"A bit," Sara admitted.

"I don't see it that way."

"How do you see it, then?"

He sighed. "I agree with what you've said. I know that Catherine didn't mean any harm by going out. But, I also know that, in our position, our lives are always subject to scrutiny. You know that as well as I do. Don't you remember what happened to all of us during that Tom Haviland case a few years ago?"

"Yeah," Sara said quietly, thinking back to the moment on the witness stand when the movie star's lawyer had accused her of altering evidence to make Grissom fall in love with her.

"I just wish that Catherine would remember that," Grissom said. "I wish she would be more careful about what she does. And …"

"And?" Sara prompted.

"I wish she would have told me what was going on before I started interrogating Novak."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Novak gave all the women he hit on his phone number written in a matchbook."

"The matchbook I found in the victim's pocket," Sara said slowly.

"Right."

"Catherine freaked out when I found it," Sara remembered. "I didn't think much of it at the time … I mean, why _wouldn't_ I believe her when she said she had to get Lindsey?" She shook her head. "So, she knew then? As soon as I found that matchbook?"

"Yes," Grissom said. "But, she didn't tell me. Then, while Vartann and I were interrogating Novak, she walked in and introduced herself." He shook his head. "I thought she was bringing in new evidence. But, then Novak stared at her and told us that she was the redhead he had first bought a drink at the bar." He paused. "I haven't been blindsided like that in years, Sara. And, it all could have been avoided if she had just told me."

"Okay," Sara said. "So, you're mad that Catherine went out and that she didn't tell you about the connection she had to the crime. But, why is she mad at you?"

"Because I'm mad at her," he replied. "She thinks I want her to live like me, and she's not willing to change her lifestyle for her job."

Sara shook her head. "You know, this is the dumbest fight you two have had in ages. I get that you have different viewpoints, but can't you just agree to disagree and move on?"

"I'm sure we will," Grissom said. "I think we just need some time to get over it."

"Well, hurry it up," Sara grinned. "If you don't, I may lock the two of you in a small room together and wait to see what happens."

Grissom looked at her with a sly smile. "I'd far rather be locked in that small room with you."

She flushed, fully understanding his implications. "Well, that could probably be arranged."

Grissom pulled into the parking lot at the warehouse. "Another time, perhaps."

"Another time," Sara agreed.

* * *

Sara and Grissom found themselves spending hours and hours in a blood-spattered warehouse. They only found one shell casing, meaning that all the blood had come from one gunshot. Sara swabbed every bloodstain, thinking that Mia would kill her when she dumped so much work on her.

"There's just no possible way all this blood came from one person," Grissom said as he photographed spatter patterns.

"Well, as soon as you find a second shell casing, I'll be happy to believe you," Sara replied.

"Maybe it only took one bullet."

"One bullet and two victims?" Sara asked with raised eyebrows. "Doubtful."

Grissom shrugged. "I've found that, in this job, it's far better to suspend your disbelief."

"Hm," Sara hummed.

They finished their tasks and went back to the lab. As anticipated, Mia was less than thrilled when Sara presented her with a mountain of swabs. But, she got to work, promising to have Sara's results as soon as possible.

Exhausted, Sara was thrilled to go home. She could hardly wait to fall into bed.

* * *

"Hey, Sara!"

Sara stopped on her way across the lab as Mia ran out of the DNA lab. "Hi, Mia," she said.

"I just got all the results from your blood swabs from the warehouse."

"Oh, good," Sara said. She and Grissom had been arguing about the source of the blood ever since they had left the warehouse. Grissom stubbornly refused to believe that there had been less than two victims murdered at the scene, while Sara contended that one bullet meant one victim. She was eager to have some solid proof on her side. "And?" she asked.

"One donor," Mia said. "All the DNA profiles are the same."

"I told Grissom it was only one person!" Sara exclaimed. "Ha. Now I'll be able to make him eat his words. How often does that happen?"

Mia grinned. "Good for you."

"I'll be sure to give you due credit," Sara promised.

"Thanks," Mia grinned.

Sara continued on her progress, now in search of Grissom.

He found her before she could find him. He grinned at her triumphantly as they encountered each other in the hall.

"I was right," he grinned.

"About what?"

"Our warehouse murder. Two victims, shot through the head with one bullet."

"No, that's not right," Sara argued as she followed him down the hall.

Grissom held up two pictures for her to see. "I just did an experiment to prove it. See, the spatter patterns are a match. One bullet; two victims."

"No, no, no, Grissom, that is _impossible_," Sara argued, walking into his office with him. "I sampled every square inch of that scene, and there was only one DNA type on the bloodstains."

"How about that?" Grissom grinned, sitting down behind his desk. "Our mystery vics are identical twins."

"Twins?" Sara repeated in incredulous surprise.

Grissom nodded.

"Well," Sara said, accepting that she had been wrong, "that's different."

"Technically, it's the same," Grissom replied.

Thinking that this man could truly drive her insane if he wanted to, Sara looked down and noticed a framed certificate on his desk. "What's this?" she asked, picking it up.

"I just got it," Grissom said, his eyes shining with excitement. "It's a certificate of honorary ownership of Trigger, the smartest horse in the movies, issued by Roy Rogers to the children of America."

Grissom went on about Roy Rogers, Trigger, the Roy Rogers Museum and the certificate of ownership he had gotten as a child for quite some time. Sara struggled not to laugh through his entire speech.

"I lost it, so I thought I'd replace it," he concluded.

"And, then you thought you'd frame it," Sara said, pursing her lips to fight the smile that wanted to burst forth.

"Yeah," Grissom said as though it were the only way to handle such a certificate.

Seeing that she wasn't giving his certificate the respect that it was due, he held out his hand for it. Sara handed it over without comment.

"So, you're into westerns?" she asked, sitting down.

"Of course," he said, again with the air of being asked a question that had an incredibly obvious answer. "You aren't?"

"Um … no," she said slowly.

"Well, that's because you've probably never had the right exposure," Grissom explained. "We'll have to fix that."

"How, exactly?" Sara asked.

"We'll have a movie marathon," Grissom declared. "It'll be fun!"

Sara started to argue, but changed her mind. He had watched _Will and Grace_ for her. Surely, she could watch a little Roy Rogers for him.

* * *

Catherine sat in her office, catching up on her paperwork. She finally understood why Grissom was always so behind with his. She had been neglecting it for over a week while she ran investigations and kept up with the cases Nick and Warrick were working. But, now, with both of them out at separate scenes, handling the shift's only two cases, she finally had the time to catch up.

"Catherine, I need to talk to you."

"Hey, Jim," Catherine smiled, looking up from her paperwork. "Come on in."

Brass walked into her office, looking more serious than she had ever seen him, and cleared his throat. "Catherine, there's been … something's happened."

The smiled faded from Catherine's face as she put her pen down on her desk. "What's happened?"

"It's Nicky."

Her fear mounted. "What about him?"

"You sent him on a trash pick up?"

"Yeah, someone had reported body parts in a parking lot," she said. "He and Warrick flipped a coin for it … Nick lost the coin toss, so he ended up going."

"Right," Brass said, his face set. "Well … there's a problem."

The look on Brass's face was enough to convince Catherine that they were dealing with far more than "a problem." She suddenly felt terrified. "What's happened to Nick?"

"He's … gone."

"What do you mean, 'gone,' Jim?" she asked, her voice rising as the panic overtook her.

"He was at his scene, and now he's … disappeared."

Catherine jumped out of her seat. "You mean he was kidnapped?"

"That's what it looks like." He cleared his throat again. "I'm going to head over now if you want to ride along …"

She shook her head. "I need to tell Gil."

She was off and running before Brass had time to say a word.

Catherine burst into Grissom's office, where he and Sara were talking quietly. They both jumped in their seats as she ran into the room.

"We have a problem," she said.

"What's wrong?" Grissom asked, knowing that it had to be something very major to have Catherine in such a state.

"Nicky's been kidnapped."

"What?" Sara exclaimed, jumping out of her seat.

"I sent him out to a scene – trash pickup. He went alone… Brass just came in and told me that he's disappeared."

"Okay," Grissom said, determined to remain calm. "We can handle this."

"_Handle this_?" Catherine nearly shrieked. "Gil, one of our guys is missing, and you're talking about _handling this_?"

"Catherine, we need to stay calm," he said in a voice that invited no argument. "If we freak out, we're not going to be able to do anything to help Nicky."

Catherine looked at him for a moment, then nodded. He was right.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Okay," she replied.

Grissom turned from her to Sara, who was still on her feet. "Sara, go get Greg. I want the two of you to pull all of Nick's active and recent cases. Go through and look for anyone who may have wanted to harm him."

"Okay," Sara agreed, already on her way out of the office.

"And, Sara?"

She stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

"Let Warrick know what's going on."

She nodded and took off down the hall, running to find Greg.

Grissom looked back at Catherine, who was still standing in front of his desk, wringing her hands. "Catherine?"

"If something happens to him …" she whispered.

"He's going to be fine," Grissom said, stepping around his desk. He put his arm around her. "We're going to find him, Cath. We'll work together. We'll pull my guys and Warrick in on this. You know we always work best as a team."

She looked up at him and nodded, taking a deep breath to pull herself under control. "Gil, about before …"

He waved his hand to dismiss it. "It's over, Cath. Let's just worry about Nick now. Let's get out there and work together to bring him home."

She nodded. "You're right. We're the best team in this lab. We'll find him. I know we will."


	28. Desperation

A/N: So, um, this just got about a thousand times longer than I had anticipated, so … yeah. This little story arch won't end here … But, again, I can promise a fairly quick update. I should have the next chapter up Monday or Tuesday.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 524, "Grave Danger" (Volume 1).

* * *

_Desperation_

Sara ran through the lab until she found Greg in the break room, playing a board game with Hodges. They both looked up when she ran into the room.

"Greg, I need you," she said, her panic obvious.

Greg stood up and followed her out of the room without question. He didn't say a word until they were alone, walking down the hall.

"Sara, what's wrong?" he asked, grabbing her am.

"It's Nicky," she said, turning to face him. "He's been kidnapped."

Shock filled Greg's eyes. "What?"

"Catherine just came in and said he disappeared from his scene. That's all I know."

"What can we do?" Greg asked.

"Grissom wants us to pull the files on all Nick's active and recent cases," she said.

"All right," Greg agreed, following her into the "library" that held the case file archives.

Sara stood still for a moment. "I need to call Warrick," she said.

"Go," Greg said. "I'll take care of this."

Sara nodded. "Thanks."

"Sara, we'll find him," Greg said. "Nick's going to be fine."

Sara nodded slowly. "I know we will," she almost whispered. "We have to."

She stepped out into the hall again, and went into a somewhat secluded alcove. She pulled her phone from her pocket and pressed the buttons to talk to Warrick. She listened to three long rings before it was answered.

"Brown."

"Warrick, we have a problem," Sara said in a rush.

"What's wrong?" Warrick asked, tension already finding its way into his voice.

"Nick's been kidnapped."

"What?" Warrick shouted.

"I don't know much," Sara said, swallowing hard to fight back the tears that wanted to fill her eyes. "Catherine just said that he was taken from his scene."

"From his scene," Warrick muttered. "Okay. What are we doing about this?"

"Greg's pulling all Nick's cases to look for potential suspects, and Grissom and Catherine are at the scene," Sara replied.

"And you?"

"I'm helping Greg."

"Okay. I'm going to the scene."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," Warrick said, his voice set, "I'm sure."

* * *

Sara and Greg had barely begun to search through the files for Nick's cases when both of their phones rang. They picked them up to see identical messages summoning them to the break room for a meeting.

"Ecklie?" Greg asked, looking at Sara with raised eyebrows. "What does he want? He never calls meeting this late."

She shrugged. "I wonder if he knows what he's taking us away from," she mused.

"What do we do?" Greg asked uncertainly.

Sara bit her lip. She wanted desperately to keep working on Nick's case, but she was also trying to follow Grissom's advice to rebuild her professional relationship with the lab's assistant director. Besides, at the moment, she certainly did not want to make him angry with either her or Grissom. "We should go," she said at last. "We can pull these files after the meeting."

"You're sure?" Greg asked, looking at her in surprise. "I've never known you to be one to put off a case for a meeting."

"Yeah, but, right now, we don't need Ecklie upset," she said, a third, almost horrifying reason to go to the meeting filling her mind. "If we need more manpower to find Nick, we're going to need him to okay it."

"You're right," Greg agreed. "Let's go."

They arrived at the break room to find it already teeming with people. Apparently, Ecklie had paged the entire lab.

"Okay, everyone, could you settle down?" he asked from his position in the middle of the room. "We have some important business to discuss."

The room fell silent. Sara looked around, noting that everyone looked puzzled as to why such a meeting had been called.

"Okay," Ecklie said, "there's no easy way for me to say this, so here it is." He drew a deep breath. "Earlier this evening, while at a crime scene, Nick Stokes was kidnapped."

Gasps ran through the room. More than one person turned to look at Sara and Greg with shock and sympathy in their eyes. Unable to take their kind looks, Sara turned to Greg. He looked back at her, and, without a word, took her hand. Sara squeezed his hand tightly, clinging to it as though it were a lifeline.

"Now, until Nick is back, this is the only case that will be handled in this lab," Ecklie said. "I don't care what the DA or a detective tells you. All other cases are on hold. If you have a problem with that, or if someone gives you a problem with that, I will deal with it. Am I making this clear?"

Nods and expressions of assent met his words. He nodded.

"Good. Okay, I need to get out to the scene. If there's anything I should know, call me."

With that, Ecklie swept out of the room.

Mia, who was sitting closest to Sara, turned to her with wide eyes. "Sara, what happened?"

Sara swallowed. "We don't know, Mia," she said quietly. "We just don't know."

* * *

By the time Grissom and Catherine returned from the scene, Sara was at her wits' end. Greg had finally pulled all Nick's cases on his own; Sara could barely sit still long enough to even find one. She had taken to wandering around the lab, trying desperately to find something to do to help.

Grissom found her in the layout room, staring blankly at the empty table. He looked at her questioningly.

"Sara? Are you all right?"

She looked up at him with haunted eyes. "What did you find?" she asked rather than replying to his query.

Grissom held up an evidence bag containing a Styrofoam coffee cup. "This was planted at the scene. Actually, the entire _scene_ was planted."

"What do you mean?"

"We found entrails that had obviously been placed; the blood pool was too perfect for them just to have been dumped there. We found this a few yards away."

Sara looked at it closely. "Why did you use yellow tape on the seal? Where did you even _get_ yellow tape?"

"I didn't," Grissom replied. "This is exactly how we found it."

"Wait … evidence was literally planted in an evidence bag?"

"Yes. Our best guess is that the kidnapper planted it to draw Nick away from the entrails and more into the shadows. It would make him easier to grab."

Sara winced. "Anything else?"

"Nick's camera was next to the planted evidence bag. Catherine found some white fibers; she took them to Hodges."

Sara nodded. "What can I do?"

"Process this and Nick's camera," Grissom said. "Catherine's at the morgue with the entrails, and Warrick's trying to get more information about the car that took Nick away."

"And you?"

"I'm going to go find Greg and get him working."

Sara nodded. "Okay. I'll get to work on this."

"Sara, we're going to find him," Grissom said quietly. "You have to believe that."

"I know," she said. "I just wish it had already happened."

Grissom smiled slightly. "Patience, my dear."

"Right. Like you're not ready to explode out of your skin right now."

He sighed. "You know what I've told you before – sometimes, you have to go slow to go fast."

"I know," she replied. "You can't rush the evidence."

"Exactly." He stepped closer and touched her arm. "Hang in there, okay?"

"You, too."

* * *

Several hours later, the entire team was called together for a meeting to discuss their progress on the case. Sara hoped that someone else had more to offer than she did – she had not gotten anything from either the camera or the cup.

Despite the lack of anything helpful she had found, Sara was extremely grateful to Grissom for giving her a project. Just the action of processing evidence was enough to snap her back into "work" mode. It forced her to keep focused and to avoid completely losing it, which she had been in danger of doing only moments before he walked into the layout room.

She took her seat at the table and listened as everyone relayed what little information they had. Warrick began by stating that, after watching surveillance tapes, he had picked out an SUV that was the most likely vehicle to be transporting Nick. He had tracked it as far as the traffic cameras would allow, noting that it had taken an eastbound path.

"At least we have a general direction," Grissom said when Warrick stopped speaking.

"Great," Sara said sarcastically. "So, Nick could be anywhere from Green Valley to Seven Hills to Arizona."

"Assuming he was in that truck," Greg added.

Catherine got them moving away from Sara and Greg's dark thoughts; she gave a report on the white fibers she had collected at the crime scene. Hodges had told her that they had been soaked in ether. Because they had been found on Nick's vest, it was safe to say that the ether had been used to subdue him.

Greg went next, but he had as much information to report as Sara did. After going through all Nick's cases, he could not find anyone who stood out as a potential suspect. Sara wanted to bang her head off a wall.

"Maybe it's a random act," she said.

"Well, that's possible, because whoever staged the crime scene couldn't have known that Nick was going to respond," Catherine said.

"Yeah, it was just bad luck he did," Warrick agreed.

Grissom asked Sara to report next; she admitted that she had not found anything – neither fingerprints nor DNA – on the cup or the bag.

Any further discussion was cut short by a commotion in the hall. Grissom got up to go investigate; the rest of the team quickly followed.

They stepped out into the hall to find Hodges fighting with a delivery person. A security officer was holding the young man back while Hodges wrestled a package from his hands.

"What are you doing, Hodges?" Grissom exclaimed.

"Guy comes in here with a package with no return address," Hodges said.

"You're violating my rights; I want a lawyer!" the man yelled.

"Shut up," Catherine ordered.

Apparently, Catherine could be terrifying when she wanted to be. The delivery man fell silent.

"The way that guy was pawing at the envelope, I figured I'd better get it away from him before he wiped off all the trace," Hodges explained.

"What trace?" Grissom asked, looking at Hodges as though he had lost his mind.

"It's about Nick," Hodges said.

A ringing silence fell over the group. The tension level in the room skyrocketed as the team stepped forward behind Grissom to stare at the small envelope. Grissom pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and put them on before picking up the package. He held it up for Catherine to read. She could make out the lab's address followed by one line: "RE: Stokes." Grissom looked at her for a moment.

"Let me do this," he said.

She nodded. As one, the team backed away, allowing Grissom to pass them. He carried the envelope to a workstation. As he had expected, it was free from all fingerprints or other telling trace. He finally slit it open to reveal an audio cassette and a flash drive. Again, neither displayed any prints. Grissom sighed. It was as much as he had expected, but he had hoped for _something_. He picked up the cassette and the flash drive and rejoined his team in the hall.

"Let's take these to the A/V room," he suggested.

Wordlessly, they followed him. Once they had reached their destination, Grissom pulled out a tape player and put it on the table. He slid the tape inside and pressed play.

They listened to silence for a few seconds. It was broken by the sounds of "Outside Chance" by The Turtles. They stood listening for a moment, all too stunned to even move. It was Catherine who finally spoke.

"The son of a bitch. He's screwing with us," she said, sounding desperately close to tears.

Without turning off the music, Grissom picked up the flash drive. They all followed him to the computer. Sara stood next to him as he slid the drive into the USB port. The file on the drive linked them to a website. Words scrolled across the screen, demanding one million dollars in twelve hours. If the money was not provided, Nick would die. It continued, explaining that drop off instructions would follow.

It wasn't exactly unexpected, but it was still horrible to read the message. Sara wanted to grab Grissom's arm, but managed to stop herself in time. She clenched her hands into fists, letting her nails dig into her palms.

The message continued, finally providing a link. Grissom clicked on it.

The screen was suddenly filled with Nick. He was trapped, shut into a box, literally buried alive.

Time suddenly seemed to stand still. They watched in horror as he shoved against the sides, top and bottom of the Plexiglas coffin, trying desperately to fight his way out.

Grissom's mouth dropped open as his heart seemed to fall though his stomach. In all the probable scenarios he had imagined for Nick's capture, this had _never_ been one of them.

Sara felt the tears filling her eyes as she stared at the screen. As much as she didn't want to see Nick in that position, she couldn't look away.

None of them could.

Grissom tore himself away first. He grabbed a calculator and began to do the math. Based on his estimations of the size of the box, he calculated that –

"He's got about an hour and fifteen minutes of air left in that box."

Sara felt all the breath leave her body. An hour and fifteen minutes. How would they ever find him in that short amount of time?

"But, if they're going to keep him alive for twelve hours, it must mean that he's got an additional air supply," Catherine said.

The screen suddenly went black. A second later, the link reappeared. Warrick clicked it again, bringing the picture of Nick back. He closed his eyes against the harshness of the light that turned on when the link was clicked.

That confirmed that they were indeed watching a live feed. Nick had no idea that they were watching him, and they had no idea where he was.

They had never felt so powerless before in their lives.

* * *

Now that they had more information about Nick – and now that they knew for sure that he was alive – they felt an even more pressing need to do _something_ to free him.

"Okay," Grissom said. "I have to go tell Ecklie about this, then I'm going to go talk to Brass about this kid who dropped off the package. Maybe he knows something, or, at the very least, saw something. Archie, we need you to try to trace the webcam."

"I'm on it," Archie said, already sitting down at his favorite computer.

"Good. Catherine, have you …?"

"I'll go now," Catherine said, suddenly looking very tired.

Grissom gave her a sympathetic look. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

She left the room quietly.

Grissom looked back at the other three CSIs. Warrick was the first to speak.

"I want to stay here," he said. "I want to keep an eye on Nicky."

"I do, too," Sara said at once.

"Me, too," Greg agreed.

"All right," Grissom conceded. "You can stay and watch him. But, listen, guys – I don't want you in here forever. Take breaks. I don't know how long you'll be able to watch this before …"

They all nodded silently, knowing how Grissom wanted to end his statement. He was concerned they'd completely lose perspective, and their minds, if they saw their friend like this for too long.

"All right," he said again. He fixed them with a firm stare. "As soon as evidence comes into this lab, the three of you are in charge of processing it. You are not to fight me, or to fight each other over who has to leave the A/V room. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," they all said together.

"Good," Grissom said. He glanced at his watch. "I'm going to go see Ecklie and Brass. When I get back, there had better only be two of you _at most_ in this room."

Nodding again, they watched as he left. They looked at each other for a moment.

"Does that two include Archie?" Greg asked in a pathetic attempt at being funny.

"No," Warrick said without hesitation. He clicked the link again, bringing Nick's face back onto the screen. "He expects Archie to be here."

"Oh, man," Archie said.

"What's wrong?" Sara asked.

"Nothing," Archie said. "It's going to be tough to trace this webcam, that's all."

"Why?"

"It just switched to a different ISP when you clicked the link," he explained. "If it did it once, chances are it'll do that every time we click it."

"You mean you won't be able to trace it?" Sara asked fearfully.

"No, I can do it," Archie said. "It's just going to take some time."

"Yeah," Warrick said heavily. "The one thing we don't have."

* * *

Catherine had had to do some very terrible things in her life. From telling her daughter she could not see an R rated movie to telling her husband that she was leaving him, she had delivered heartbreaking news more than once. But nothing, _nothing_ had prepared her for the phone call that she had to make.

She pulled Nick's personnel file and stared at it for nearly ten minutes. Finally, realizing that waiting wasn't going to make it any easier, she slowly dialed the numbers, beginning with an unfamiliar area code in Texas.

The phone rang twice.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Stokes?"

"Yes?"

"Hello," Catherine said, swallowing hard. "This is Catherine Willows. I'm Nick's supervisor at the crime lab in Las Vegas."

"Oh, hello," Mrs. Stokes said, sounding politely puzzled. "How can I help you?"

"Um … Mrs. Stokes, there is no good way for me to tell you this," Catherine said. "We have a problem with Nick."

"What kind of problem?"

Catherine drew a deep breath. _Quickly – like ripping off a band aid_. "Nick was sent out to a crime scene earlier this evening. He disappeared from that scene. Based on the evidence, it's safe to say that he was kidnapped."

Silence met her ears. It stretched on for so long that Catherine was afraid the other woman had fainted.

"Mrs. Stokes?"

"What do they want?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly. "How much are they demanding?"

"A million dollars," Catherine replied.

"When?"

"In twelve hours."

"I'm going to call my husband," she said. "He needs to know about this."

"Yes, of course."

"We'll be in Vegas as soon as we can," Mrs. Stokes continued. "Can we come to the crime lab to talk to you in person?"

"Yes, of course," Catherine said again. "Would you like my cell number so we can stay in touch?"

"Please."

Catherine rattled off the numbers without really thinking about it.

"Thank you, Ms. Willows," Mrs. Stokes said. "I'll call you when we arrive."

"Mrs. Stokes – I'm so sorry."

There was a long pause. When Mrs. Stokes spoke again, her voice was choked. "Good bye, Ms. Willows."

"Good bye," Catherine replied.

She stared at her phone long after Mrs. Stokes had hung up. She prayed that she had delivered the worst of the news to Nick's parents. That call had been bad enough. She didn't think she could handle another.

* * *

"We need to talk."

Ecklie looked up from his desk and nodded. Grissom walked fully into the room and sat down.

"We've been contacted by Nick's kidnapper."

Ecklie suddenly sat up straighter. "When?"

"Just a few moments ago. A package was dropped off. It contained an audio cassette and a flash drive. The cassette was a decoy; it just plays a song. The flash drive, however, is linked to a website. It asks for a one million dollar ransom. It also has a link to a live feed of Nick."

"What?" Ecklie exclaimed.

"It would appear that the kidnapper has a webcam on him," Grissom said slowly. "From what we can tell, he doesn't know that he's being filmed at all, let alone that we can see him."

Ecklie nodded. "Where is he? Can you get anything from the shot?"

"From what we can see, he's buried alive. That's all we know."

Ecklie exhaled. "Okay. Is Archie –?"

"He's working on it," Grissom interrupted.

"Good." Ecklie stood up. "I'm going to see if we can get this money."

"I didn't think the department was willing to negotiate with terrorists," Grissom commented.

Ecklie shrugged. "I have to try, don't I?"

"Yes," Grissom said quietly. "We have to do everything we can."

* * *

Warrick and Sara sat alone in the A/V room, watching as Nick twisted his head from side to side. Not for the first time, Sara found herself swallowing tears. What had Nick, sweet, kind Nick done to deserve this?

"It should have been me."

Warrick's words broke the silence that had prevailed since Archie and Greg had left the room to get coffee for all of them. Sara slowly turned to look at him.

"What?"

"We flipped a _coin_ for this, Sara," Warrick said, his eyes glued to the screen. "Catherine came out with two assignments, and we flipped to decide who got the better one. I won the toss; I got to investigate the assault. Nicky went to pick up some body parts and wound up …"

"Warrick, this isn't your fault," Sara said firmly.

"If I had just –"

"Just what?" Sara interrupted. "Gone instead of Nick? Let him take the assault case? What would that have changed? Catherine's right – this was random. This guy didn't care who he took, just that it was a CSI. He would have taken you as easily as Nick. Then, Nick would be the one sitting next to me right now, watching you on that screen. Or, the call could have come in an hour later, and it could be me or Greg or Grissom in that box. No matter what, one of us would be buried alive while the rest of us were stuck here …" She trailed off.

Warrick sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "You're right. No matter what, we'd all be going through hell."

* * *

More bad news. Why was all the news suddenly bad?

What were quickly turning into dark musings were cut off by the vibrating of his cell phone. Grissom pulled it out of his pocket and opened it.

"Grissom."

"Where are you?" Catherine asked.

"I just left a meeting with Ecklie," Grissom replied. "Where are you?"

"I'm headed for the conference room," Catherine said. "Nick's parents just got here. I thought they'd probably want to talk to you."

"Yeah," Grissom replied. "Okay. I'll be right there."

He flipped his phone shut and sighed. He didn't expect this meeting with Nick's parents to be easy. Nothing about this case had been.

Grissom was sure that, in his entire career, he had never had so many factors working against him on one case. After the nearly complete lack of information their initial search of the scene turned up, and the heartbreaking video someone was now always watching, it seemed like they deserved a break. But, it was not to be. Ecklie brought the sober, though not unexpected, news that the department would not provide the money for Nick's ransom. Brass added to the dead ends with the information that the package had been sent from a decoy address. While it was a real house, the dead-to-the-world drunk who lived in it was obviously not the kidnapper.

Maybe it wasn't that this case had brought more dead ends than the average case.

Maybe it was just that it meant so much more than the average case.

* * *

Of all the CSIs Catherine had worked with, Nick was by far the most compassionate. When he would deliver horrible news to a victim's family, he would look into their eyes and tell them how sorry he was. While it was a platitude they all delivered, Nick was the one who actually meant it. Grissom had told Catherine more than once that he worried about Nick's sympathetic nature – he was concerned that it would cause him to lose perspective while working his cases. In Catherine's eyes, however, it just made him that much better at his job.

Now, looking into the eyes of his parents, she could see where he had learned to sympathize with others. It was obvious that his mother would take on the woes of the world.

On this night, though, she had enough woes of her own.

The Stokeses wanted to know that their son was still alive. It was only natural. In their position, Catherine would have wanted the same thing. She and Grissom looked at each other and made their decision in an instant.

They took them to the A/V lab. Sara, Warrick and Archie were sitting there, all drinking coffee. Archie was still trying to trace the webcam, while Sara and Warrick stared at the screen. As Grissom and Catherine led the Stokeses in, the screen went black. Grissom thought that was probably for the best.

"Sara, Warrick," he said.

In an instant, they were on their feet. Catherine was surprised. Grissom had always commanded the respect of his team, but she had never seen his CSIs react like that when he walked into a room.

"This is Judge Stokes and Mrs. Stokes," Grissom said. "They're Nick's parents. These are two of our CSIs, Sara Sidle and Warrick Brown. They're both good friends of Nick's."

"Nick talks about the two of you all the time," Mrs. Stokes said as she shook their hands. She smiled slightly at Sara. "There was a time when I thought that you might be … someone special to Nicky."

Sara smiled, flushing slightly. "Nick's a wonderful friend," she said, "but that's all we've ever been. I love him like a brother."

"We both do," Warrick added.

"We had hoped to show them the video feed," Grissom explained. "Do you think you could …?"

"Yeah," Warrick said. "Come on, Sara. Let's go find Greg and see what he's up to."

Sara nodded and followed Warrick from the room. Archie remained, sitting in his secluded corner, waiting for Grissom to press the link that would give him yet another ISP to track.

"This won't be easy to see," Grissom cautioned. "We were all shocked when we first saw it. But … it does let us know how Nick's doing."

Judge Stokes nodded. "Just press the button."

Grissom looked at Catherine, who nodded slightly. He clicked the link.

As Nick shielded his face from the light, tears sprang into his mother's eyes. She watched in horror for several moments, then, with a strangled cry, left the room. Catherine watched her go, her mother's heart breaking for the woman. Judge Stokes stayed longer, watching his son move his head slightly from side to side.

"Ah, Pancho," he said at last. "What the hell have you got yourself into?"

He, too, left the room. He joined his wife in the hallway, pulling her to him.

Catherine looked at them for a moment, then back at Nick. She stared at him, her eyes slowly moving down to the timer at the bottom of the screen. Only four hours remained until they had to deliver the ransom money – money that they did not have.

Determination filled Catherine. If that were her child … if she were Mrs. Stokes … Catherine knew that if someone had taken Lindsey, she would want to know that the team was doing everything in its power to get her back.

As of yet, Catherine had not done everything in her power.

It was time to change that.

Without a word to Grissom, she left the A/V lab, and then the crime lab itself. She had to get that money. And she knew exactly how she could do it.

* * *

Being Sam Braun's daughter did come with benefits. One of those was the ability to be very spoiled by a very wealthy man.

Tracking him down was never difficult for Catherine. Everyone on his staff knew her, and knew that Sam adored her. One phone call was all it took to lead her to the restaurant where he was having lunch with some friends.

Getting him alone was a bit more of a challenge. His friends wanted to tease her, and the young woman he was with assumed that she was her competition. It wasn't until Sam introduced her as his daughter that they all backed off. Sam disentangled himself from the group and joined her in a secluded corner of the restaurant.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"No," Catherine replied. "I need your help."

"What can I do?" he asked.

"One of my guys is in trouble," she said. "He's been kidnapped. I need a million dollars in cash … large bills … and I need it now."

"Let me guess, Mugs," he said. "The department won't pay the ransom."

"No."

"Why should I?"

Catherine drew a deep breath. As much as she hated to admit it, she had anticipated this question, and had prepared her sales pitch. "Considering the problems that you've had with the law, you could use some good publicity."

"Do I look like a man who needs publicity?" Sam asked. "If you're coming to me like a cop with a tin cup in your hand, the answer is _no_."

"I'm not here as a cop," Catherine said quietly.

He looked at her for a long moment, wishing that their past had been different, wishing that their relationship could be different, wishing that she would have come to him without the sales pitch. "Then ask me like you were my daughter."

Tears slowly filled Catherine's eyes. "This is _Nicky_, Dad," she said. "_Nicky_. I mentored him when he started in this job, and I've watched him learn ever since. We've helped each other through so much … I know his secrets and he knows mine. And, now, he's trapped underground in some plastic box, thinking that we'll never find him, thinking that every moment could be his last, and this is all I can do to help him. I don't know if this guy is just doing this for the money. I don't know if handing it over will bring Nick back, but I'm fairly sure that if we don't come up with it, Nick will die. And, I know that I could never live with myself if I hadn't at least _tried_ to get the money to save him." A tear escaped and slid down her cheek. "Please, Daddy," she whispered. "Please help me save my friend."

Sam looked at Catherine for a moment. She wasn't acting. Her entire world really did hinge on his answer. Compassion filled his eyes, and he pulled her into a hug.

"Okay, Mugs," he said, kissing her forehead. "Let's go get your money."

Catherine began to sob, burying her face in his shoulder. "Thank you, Dad," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

* * *

An hour later, Catherine walked back into the lab carrying a leather bag full of money. She went straight to Grissom's office and dropped it on his desk. He lowered the planted evidence cup he had been studying and looked at her.

"I got the money," she said.

"From where?" Grissom asked in shock.

"Where do you think?"

Grissom opened the bag and pulled out a stack of money, noticing the band with the name of one of Sam's casinos printed on it. He looked up at her.

"Catherine, if the press finds out about this, it'll look like Sam Braun bribed the lab."

"He's a casino owner. A leader of industry. Never convicted of any crime … and right now I don't care about the integrity of the lab, at the moment, I care about Nick."

"Yeah, well, so do I, but nonetheless …"

Panic filled her. He really didn't want to use the money? "You're sitting here like Jack Handy with your deep thoughts, staring at a coffee cup. If you've got a better plan, I'm all ears!"

Grissom's face fell. He didn't have a better plan, and she knew it. He exhaled.

"All right."

Catherine's face relaxed.

"But, I make the drop," he said. "You're hands off."

"That's my money –"

"You can't be seen anywhere near this money," Grissom said firmly. "It was given to the lab _anonymously_. Agreed?"

She nodded. "Agreed."

Grissom looked at his watch. "Time's about up. Let's go see if we have our next instructions."

They went to the A/V lab, where the team had congregated. For once, Grissom didn't yell at them for being there. He knew that they wanted to see what happened next as much as he did.

Nick disappeared from the screen, and a new message began to scroll across it. It gave a drop site for the money, cautioning the one bringing it to come alone.

"Damn it!" Sara exclaimed. "What are we going to do now?"

"We have the money," Grissom said quietly.

Sara, Greg, Warrick and Archie looked at him in open-mouthed shock. He nodded.

"How?" Greg finally asked.

"An anonymous donor," Grissom replied.

"Wow," Greg muttered. "Nick's got some pretty special friends."

"Or, the lab does," Grissom said. "At any rate, we can pay the ransom."

"I'll go," Warrick said at once.

"No," Grissom said firmly. "I'm going to take the money."

"Griss, come on –"

"_No_, Warrick."

Suddenly slightly afraid of his boss, Warrick backed off.

"We're going to put a dye pack in the bag, right?" Greg said. "We've got to catch this guy."

"No," Grissom said again. "We need Nick back. We're going to play his game if that's what it takes. We'll get him in the end – we'll just let the evidence lead us there, not the ransom money."

"Wait," Sara said. "Play his game? Grissom, you're not thinking of actually doing this alone, are you? You're going to take some uniforms, right?"

"No," he said, looking deeply into her eyes. "I'm going alone, Sara."

Tears filled her eyes. "Griss, _please_," she said. "_Please_, take someone with you. Take Brass. You need back up. I can't … I can't handle watching another member of this team on that screen."

Grissom knew that far more than she was actually saying was going into her pleas. But, he was just as sure that he couldn't change his mind. He had to do this as instructed.

"I'll be fine, Sara," he said quietly. "I'll go give this man the money and bring Nick back with me. It'll all be fine."

She looked at him for another moment, then left the room. Grissom sighed.

"Okay. I need to leave now or I'll miss the deadline. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Catherine bit her lip and closed the distance between them to hug Grissom tightly. "Good luck," she whispered.

He hugged her back, a bit surprised by the affectionate gesture. "I'll be back with Nick before you know it," he said.

She pulled back and gave him a lopsided smile. "I hope so."

He nodded at all of them and walked out of the room.

Grissom walked quickly through the building. He had to stop in his office to get the money, and then he would be gone.

He opened his office door and stopped in surprise. Sara was standing in front of his desk with tears streaming down her cheeks. Grissom closed the door behind him, clicking it locked. He crossed the room in long strides and pulled her close. She clung to him, sobbing against his shoulder.

"I'm so scared, Gil," she sobbed. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm going to be fine," he said soothingly. "You'll see."

"He's a kidnapper who buried Nicky alive," Sara said. "Who's to say he won't do the same to you?"

"I have to do this, Sara," Grissom said urgently. "We don't have any leads to follow. There's no more evidence to search for clues. If I don't do this, we'll never get Nick back. We can't just sit here and watch him die in that box. We have to do what we can."

She finally nodded against him. "I just wish you'd take Brass."

"Hey," he said, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Well, then, you have to trust me when I say that I'll come back to you." He smiled. "I just got you, Sara. I'm not going to give you up now."

She looked deeply into his eyes for a moment, then pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back, holding her tightly. He was the one to break the kiss and gently put her from him.

"I have to go," he said quietly.

"I know," she sighed. "Just … be careful."

"I will," he promised.

He picked up the bag of money and walked back across the office. He opened the door, and Sara suddenly knew that she couldn't let him leave – not yet.

"Gil, wait!"

He turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised in a question.

_I love you_. She wanted so desperately to say the words, but knew she'd never get them past the lump in her throat. Instead, she rushed across the office and threw her arms around him again.

He hugged her tightly one last time, then released her. He touched her cheek, and then left the room.

Sara leaned back against the doorframe, letting the tears slide silently down her cheeks.


	29. Search

A/N: Could I end it here? Never! One more "Grave Danger" chapter after this one. Not that that's the end of the story, just of this arc.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episodes 524 and 525, "Grave Danger" (Volumes 1 and 2). Sadly, I don't own Google. Oh, how my student loans would be paid off. And, finally, I don't own Superman, either, but I'd love to date him. :-P

* * *

_Search_

The drive to the drop site wasn't long, but it was nerve-wracking. Grissom was sure he had never been the one to transport so much money before; that alone was rather daunting. Then, there was what he would face upon his arrival to consider…

In all the years of his career, in all the kidnappings he had investigated, he had never once suggested that a family pay the ransom. It went against everything his training and years of experience had taught him. He could scarcely believe what he was about to do. But, this time the rulebook didn't matter. Nick was what mattered. He just wanted to see Nick safely back with his friends and family.

Grissom reached his destination, a forbidding, rather creepy, abandoned warehouse. It was in the middle of a desolate stretch of desert. Its secluded location made it seem like the perfect place to bury a live person – or a dead body, for that matter – without anyone noticing. As he climbed out of the car with the bag of money and walked toward the warehouse, Grissom looked around with practiced eyes. Any patch of earth that looked disturbed could be where Nick was buried. Unfortunately, he could not find what he sought. Based on his cursory search, Nick was not here.

He finally made it to the entrance. He slid the door open and slowly walked inside, taking off his sunglasses. He glanced around and saw the white SUV Warrick had been tracking on the traffic cameras. At least they had gotten that right. He put his sunglasses in his pocket and pulled out his flashlight, turning it on so that he could see better in the dim room.

"Las Vegas Crime Lab," he called into the cavernous building.

"Through the door," a man's voice called back.

Grissom, carrying his flashlight in one hand and the money in the other, slowly walked across the first room and through a narrow door into the second. A man sat behind a desk, staring at a laptop. Grissom's stomach clenched as he realized that Nick's kidnapper was probably watching the same webcam video that his team had been staring at all day.

"Very quiet outside," the man commented. "It almost sounds like you came alone."

"I've got your money," Grissom said.

The man stood up. "Put it down," he commanded.

Grissom set the bag down on the floor.

"Slide it over," he instructed.

Grissom gave the bag a kick that sent it sliding across the floor.

The man finally stepped closer; Grissom could see that he was an older man. His thinning gray hair was combed neatly, and his button-up shirt and jacket made him the best-dressed kidnapper Grissom had ever met.

"You're telling me there's a million dollars in that bag?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"Along with some cute little booby traps? Which is it – a tracer, a dye pack, er …?"

"Normally, you'd be a hundred percent right, but, this time you're a hundred percent _wrong_," Grissom said. "We want Nick back; no tricks."

The kidnapper crouched down to open the bag. He pulled out a stack of bills and looked at it, chuckling softly. "This looks real."

"It is real," Grissom said calmly. "Where is Nick?"

The man straightened up again. "You know, I was under the impression that it was against departmental policy to negotiate with terrorists."

"Are you a terrorist?" Grissom asked.

"Depends," the man said, shining his flashlight in Grissom's face. "Are you terrified?"

"Look, I don't really want to talk to you," Grissom said, his patience running thin. "Where is my guy?"

"Oh, so … he is your guy, huh?"

"Yes, he is. Where is he buried?"

"Are you two _close_?"

"That's none of your business," Grissom said, impatience slowly turning to anger.

"What does Nick Stokes mean to you?" the man asked. "How do you feel when you see him in that coffin? Does your soul die every time you push that button? How do you feel knowing that there's nothing you can do to get him out of that hell? Helpless? Useless? Impotent?"

Grissom stared him wordlessly. That was exactly how he felt, but he wasn't going to give this man the satisfaction of knowing that.

"Good," the man said, guessing Grissom's unsaid answer. "Welcome to my world."

He unbuttoned and opened his jacket to reveal explosives strapped to his stomach. Grissom's mouth dropped open. No, no, _no_, it was not supposed to happen like this! Grissom had turned over the money, now he was supposed to turn over the hostage! Panic raced through Grissom. He had to stop him – if he killed himself, he would kill their last chance of saving Nick …

Before Grissom could say a word, before he could even begin to dissuade the man from what he was about to do, he picked up the trigger switch for the explosives.

"Ah … if I were you, I'd back up a little," he said.

Silently, already feeling the effects of the shock that was seeping through his system, Grissom took a few steps back.

He pressed the button.

The force of the explosion threw Grissom backwards. He landed flat on his back on the hard floor. When the sound had stopped, he slowly sat up. Blood was spattered all over the room and Grissom, and money was flying through the air. Nick's kidnapper was gone, literally blown into a thousand pieces.

Grissom drew gasping breaths. What would they do now? Their one link to Nick was gone … how would they ever find him?

Slowly, slowly, he climbed to his feet. He swayed slightly as he surveyed the damage. Poor Catherine had gone to such lengths to get the ransom money … Ecklie had even begged the mayor for it … Warrick had tracked an SUV for hours on surveillance video … Greg had searched through stacks of files looking for suspects … Sara had processed the life out of fake evidence … Nick's parents had come all the way from Texas to see their son _alive_ again, not to watch him die via webcam …

Grissom took a deep breath and swallowed. He had to pull himself together. At the very least, he had to get help.

He took out his cell phone and pressed the button to talk to dispatch.

"Dispatch, this is CSI Grissom," he began. "I'm at the site of an explosion …"

* * *

Sara stood in Grissom's office for quite some time, trying to compose herself. Once she felt that her emotions were firmly reined in, she returned to the A/V lab. Warrick, Greg, Archie and Catherine were all still there, their eyes glued to the monitor.

"Hey," she said, her voice slightly hoarse.

"Hey," Greg replied, sliding closer to Catherine so that she could join them. "We all decided that we wanted to be there to watch Grissom save Nick. You know, like Superman."

Sara smiled at that. She wasn't sure how Grissom would take to being called Superman, but she was willing to give it a try the next time she saw him.

"How much longer is this going to take?" Warrick exclaimed. "Grissom's been gone long enough to have gotten there and handed over the money. When are they going to get Nick out of that box?"

"We don't know where Nick is in relation to the drop site," Catherine said. "They might have had to drive a little way to get there."

Sara bit her lip. The idea of Grissom driving somewhere with a kidnapper was terrifying. Greg looked at her compassionately and grabbed her hand.

"Hey," he said, "it's going to be okay, Sara. They'll be back soon."

"This is maddening," she said. She made an attempt at a smile. "I don't wait well."

"Yeah, so I've noticed," Greg replied, trying to smile along with her. "But, a little patience can go a long way."

Sara looked at Warrick, who shook his head. He was just as anxious as she was for this whole thing to be over.

Catherine's phone rang, breaking the silence that followed Greg's comment. She picked it up and flipped it open.

"Willows," she said. "Hi, Jim. … I'm in the A/V lab. … Yeah, they're all here with me. … Okay. … Bye."

The others looked at her with raised eyebrows. She shook her head.

"Brass is on his way over. He says he has something to tell us."

For some reason, the idea that Brass was coming in person to deliver news sent cold fear through Sara's heart. She gripped Greg's hand even tighter.

"Um, Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to need those fingers again sometime. Could you relax a little?"

She smiled slightly and dropped his hand. "Sorry. I'm a little nervous."

"It's all right. You have a good reason."

"Hi, everyone."

They all turned as Brass walked into the room. His face was ashen; it was enough to have Sara grabbing Greg's arm.

"What's happened, Jim?" Catherine whispered. She clutched the back of a chair with white-knuckled hands.

"Grissom dropped off the money," he said. "Unfortunately, the kidnapper blew himself up before Grissom could get Nick's location out of him."

Sara swayed on her feet. Greg reacted immediately, grabbing her to keep her upright.

"Is Grissom okay?" she choked out.

"He called it in, so I'm sure he'll be fine," Brass replied. "The EMTs are on their way there now."

"And, we don't know anything more about Nick?" Sara asked.

Brass paused and licked his lips. "From what I've heard, no," he said quietly.

Tears filled Sara's eyes, and Catherine let out a muffled cry. Warrick dropped his head.

"Okay," Catherine said, pulling herself together as best she could. "We've got to get to the scene. Everyone change into coveralls first. I have a feeling we're going to get dirty."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sara and Greg were in an SUV together, racing to the scene of the explosion. Sara was driving, speeding down the road as fast as safety would allow.

"You know, the scene isn't going anywhere," Greg said.

"Yeah, but, Nick doesn't have much time," Sara replied without taking her eyes off the road. "There has to be something there that will help us find him."

Greg nodded, and Sara sighed with relief.

Nick was a safe excuse. Her very real concern for him could mask her equally real concern for Grissom. She had to get to the scene to see for herself that he was all right.

Thanks largely to Sara's maniacal driving, she and Greg arrived at the scene ahead of Warrick and Catherine. They jumped out of the car as soon as Sara had it in park. Grissom was being led out of the warehouse by an EMT and to a waiting ambulance. Without a backwards glance at Greg, Sara ran to him.

"Sara," he whispered as she appeared in front of him.

"Hey," she said, giving him a lopsided smile. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," he said.

She looked at him, noting the blood that covered his face and clothes. She bit her lip. "Are you bleeding, Griss?"

"No … I don't think so …" He looked up at her with haunted eyes. "He blew himself up, Sara. Right in front of me. I watched it happen. There was nothing I could do to stop him."

Sara reached out and grabbed his hand. "Grissom, stop. It's going to be all right. We'll find Nicky. Greg's here with me, and Warrick and Catherine are on their way. We'll find something in this mess. There's always a clue, right?"

He shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Sara," he whispered.

"For what?" she asked in surprise.

"I promised you …"

"You promised me that you'd come back," she said, squeezing his hand. "You did that, Griss. You didn't break your word."

Greg appeared beside her. "Cath and Warrick are here," he said. "We should go see what Catherine wants us to do."

"Let the EMTs take care of you before you try to do anything with this scene, okay, Grissom?" Sara smiled.

"Yeah …" he said vaguely.

She squeezed his hand one last time, then followed Greg to where Catherine and Warrick were climbing out of their SUV.

"Is he all right?" Greg asked.

Sara shook her head slightly. "I think he's in shock."

"Hey, guys," Catherine said as they reached her and Warrick. "How's Gil?"

"The EMTs are working on him," Sara said.

"Did he say anything about the kidnapper?"

"Just that he blew himself up," Sara said with a slight shudder. "He said he couldn't get anything about Nick's location out of him."

"All right," Catherine sighed. The news was disheartening, but not unexpected. "As of now, we're going to consider this scene full of evidence that could lead us to Nick. Let's go inside and see what's here."

They walked in together, taking a moment to survey the car, the blood spatter, the broken windows, the torn money …

"Okay, here's the plan," Catherine said. "Warrick and Greg, take the SUV. See what you can get from it Sara, you and I will start on the rest of the warehouse. You take the back room; I'll take this one. Ecklie's sending the dayshift out to help us; they should be here within the hour. Everyone clear?"

They all nodded and immediately got to work.

Sara was glad that she had the back room. It was clearly the site of the explosion; body parts littered the room. It meant that she had more to collect, more to process. It meant that she could immerse herself in her work and not think about the fact that her boyfriend was sitting in the back of an ambulance in a state of shock.

She wanted so desperately to run back outside and to sit with him, holding his hand while the paramedics checked his vital signs and asked him health-related questions. She wanted to wrap a blanket around him to protect him from the chill that always accompanied shock. She wanted to use a soft cloth to wipe the blood off his face.

But, she couldn't do any of that. To do that would be to admit that they were dating, which would cause them innumerable problems.

So, she began her overall sketch of the scene while she waited for David to arrive. He needed to release the body before she could begin collecting the parts.

* * *

Several hours later, Sara and Warrick were sent back to the lab with the evidence they had collected. Greg, Catherine and the members of the dayshift remained at the scene to continue collecting evidence.

"What do you think of all this?" Warrick asked without taking his eyes from the road. He was driving far slower than Sara had on the way to the scene.

"I think we've got a lot of work ahead of us," she said.

"But, you think we'll find him?"

Sara turned to look at him. "We have to, Warrick. We can't fail."

"Yeah, but, Sara …"

"I know it seems impossible," she said. "But, we … we just have to do this. Think of all the evidence we've collected at this point. There must be something there that will lead us to him."

"When did you become an optimist?"

"When did you give up on one of your friends?" she shot back.

Warrick turned to look at her. "Okay," he said. "Okay. I won't give up on Nick. When we get back to the lab, I'll go check on him."

"Good," Sara said. "I've got to get to work on my thumb."

Sara's prize find from the scene was the kidnapper's thumb. She could hardly wait to print it. She was sure she'd find a match. Just having the kidnapper's identity could lead them to Nick.

They arrived at the lab and walked in together. Warrick helped Sara log the evidence in, then they separated. Sara took the thumb into the lab to print and then to give to Mia to run a DNA profile. Warrick went in the opposite direction to the A/V lab, where he found Archie watching over Nick.

"How's he doing?" Warrick asked.

"Hard to say," Archie replied with a shake of his head. "About the same, I guess." He paused and glanced at Warrick. "I'm going to get some coffee."

"Yeah," Warrick agreed. Archie and the CSIs had an unspoken agreement that Nick would never be left "alone." With all of the CSIs in the field for so long, Archie had likely been sitting in front of the monitor for hours.

Warrick had only been watching Nick for a moment before the feed was lost. He clicked he link to bring Nick back into view.

Warrick watched as Nick pulled a piece of gum into view – he must have taken it from his pocket. Nick put the gum into his mouth and started chewing it. Warrick frowned as he watched Nick take the gum out of his mouth and pull it into two pieces. He jammed the gum into his ears.

"What are you doing, Nicky?" Warrick asked.

Nick pulled a gun into view. Warrick's pulse rate shot up.

"What are you doing, Nicky?" he asked again, starting to stand up.

Nick held the gun up on his chest, pointing it toward his chin as he looked down. Tears filled Warrick's eyes.

"Don't do it, Nicky," he begged.

Nick held the gun against his cheek for a moment. Warrick was all the way on his feet now, watching in horror. A gun blast, and the screen went black.

Warrick jumped. "You son of a bitch!" he yelled.

A moment later, green light from a glow stick filled the screen, illuminating Nick, who had turned his head to the side. He had apparently shot out the light. Warrick began to laugh.

"He's still alive," he muttered.

Archie returned a moment later. "Did I miss anything?"

Warrick just looked at him for a minute. "I need a break."

"Yeah, go."

Archie sat down again, and Warrick left the room. He went into the locker room and opened his locker. He stared into it for a minute, then slammed it shut and sat down hard on the bench. He lowered his head into his hands.

"Hey."

He looked up as Sara walked into the locker room. "Hey."

"Are you all right?"

"Did you know that Nick still has his gun?"

Sara slowly sat down next to him. "No."

Warrick nodded. "I just watched him shoot out the light. I thought … I thought …"

Sara grabbed his hand and held it tightly. "He's still alive, Warrick. We'll find him."

"Yeah," Warrick said. "How did you do with that thumb?"

Sara shook her head sadly. "It's all up to Mia now."

Warrick looked at her for a minute. "I can't stay here."

"Where are you going?" Sara asked as he jumped to his feet.

"Back to the warehouse. I'm going to help Cath and Greg."

Sara nodded and watched as he nearly ran from the locker room. Sighing, she got her feet. She should start processing the other evidence she and Warrick had brought back.

"Sara!"

Sara stopped short as she passed the A/V lab. Grissom came bounding out of it, looking far better than the last time she had seen him.

"Hi," she said, trying and failing to repress a beaming smile. "It's good to see you on your feet again."

"Can I see you in my office?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied.

Sara followed him down the hall to his office, fighting the urge to touch him the whole way. She wanted so desperately to hold his hand, to lace her fingers through his, but she held back. They couldn't let anyone know how their relationship had evolved.

Grissom led her into his office, closing the door behind her. He looked at her for a long moment, then pulled her close, crushing her against him in a tight embrace. Sara clung to him, feeling tears spring into her eyes.

"I was so scared," she whispered. "When I saw you, covered in blood …"

"I'm so sorry, Sara," he said, his voice just as low as hers. "I feel like I failed you … all of you …"

"No," she said firmly, pulling back. "You did what you thought was right, Griss. We got a lot more by doing it your way than by following protocol and not paying the ransom. Mia's working on this guy's DNA, Warrick, Cath and Greg are processing the warehouse, I've got tons of evidence to go through …" She swallowed hard as she trailed off.

"This is all good," Grissom said. "You're right, you know." He looked at her, watching as a tear slid down her cheek. "We'll get there in the end."

"What if it's not soon enough?" she asked. "We have so much right now, but it's all going to take time to work though. What if we don't have enough time? Nick doesn't know that we're working on this. He doesn't know how close we are."

"Sara?" Grissom asked, grabbing her face in his hands as it crumbled.

"Warrick said Nicky has a gun," she said.

Grissom exhaled. "Yes. But, according to Archie, he shot out the light because it and the fan are running on the same battery. He was trying to get more cool air, not to hurt himself." He moved his hands to her shoulders, gripping them tightly. "Nicky's holding it together, Sara. You have to believe that he's holding out hope, and that he knows we're not going to rest until we find him. You know that, right? Sara?"

"Yes," she said, swallowing her tears. "Yes, I know that. I'll never give up on Nick."

"None of us will," Grissom said. "And he knows that."

Sara looked at him for a moment. "I should get back to work."

"Yeah. Me, too."

"Yeah."

Sara leaned forward and gave his cheek a lingering kiss. "Thank God you're all right," she whispered. "I don't know what I would have done …"

He smiled and touched her cheek again. "I'll always come back to you, Sara."

"And I will to you."

One last meaningful look, one last unspoken promise, and they left the office. They had work to do.

* * *

Sara stood in the hallway at a water fountain. She had been processing evidence for what felt like years, and had not found anything they could use. She pressed the button to make water flow from the fountain, but didn't bend to drink it. She stared at it without really seeing it, thinking of Nick.

He had been her first friend when she came to Vegas. He had helped her find her apartment, had taken her to his favorite restaurants, had shown her around the city, had cheered her up when she was down, had laughed with her, had joked with her, had been her rock and support system …

"Sara!" Mia exclaimed, throwing open the DNA lab door. "I got something off your thumb!"

Sara ran the short distance down the hall to join Mia in her lab. She listened as Mia explained that while the kidnapper's DNA was not on file, it was matched to the DNA of Kelly Gordon. Based on their ages, Mia was sure that she was his daughter.

"Mia, you are the best," Sara grinned. "Thank you so much."

Mia smiled. "Just doing my job."

Beaming at her, Sara left the DNA lab and went to Grissom's office. After updating him on what Mia had found, they pulled the files on the crime that had put Kelly in jail for five years as an accessory to murder. They went through them together, searching for a connection between this girl and Nick.

While there was no connection to Nick personally – further proving the theory that any CSI would have done as the victim – they found that nothing about the case was random. The Styrofoam cup was identical to the cup that had been recovered at the murder scene. Kelly's DNA had been found on the rim, placing her at the crime scene and sending her to jail for her involvement in the murder. The murder had been committed at the same address from which the package that Hodges had wrestled away from the delivery man had been sent.

"Will this help us determine where Nick is?" Sara asked.

"Doubtful, but possible," Grissom said. "Brass is bringing Kelly in for questioning. Why don't you go give him a hand with that?"

Sara nodded and stood up. "I'm there."

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

Grissom smiled at her. "Nice work."

She smiled and shook her head. "This was all Mia. The credit is hers."

"You're the one who found the thumb," Grissom said. "Take some of the credit."

Flushing, she smiled at him and left his office.

* * *

"Hey, Sara," Brass said as she walked into PD.

"Hi," Sara smiled. "Is she here?"

"We've got about five minutes," Brass replied. "Listen, I want to show you something before we go in there."

"What?" Sara asked.

Brass opened a file. "I have Kelly's visitors' log."

"Okay …"

"Her father, Walter Gordon, visited her all the time for the first six weeks she was in jail. After that, he stopped."

"Kind of him," Sara said sarcastically.

"Well, this is where it gets interesting," Brass continued. "He visited her last week."

Sara stared at him. "What?"

"Yeah," Brass said. "Maybe …"

"Maybe she knows something," Sara said, feeling excitement fill her for the first time in what felt like years. "Maybe she knows where Nick is!"

"We've got to be kind with this one," Brass said. "We need to go slowly."

"I think that 'slow' is the last thing we need right now. It's _definitely_ the last thing that Nick needs."

"Well, at the risk of sounding like Grissom, it's the best thing we can do. We have to go slow –"

"Yeah, yeah, go slow to go fast. I've heard it before."

Brass smiled at her. "Come on. Let's go talk to Ms. Gordon."

Not surprisingly, Kelly was less than cooperative. She was extraordinarily bitter toward the cops and CSIs, feeling that they had unfairly jailed her.

Jail had not been kind to her, and had only served to make her angrier toward the men and women of law enforcement. She claimed to be completely unaware of her father's plans; she did seem shocked when Brass informed her that he had kidnapped Nick and blown himself up. Her only question was if he had managed to kill any police officers in the explosion.

"Hey, we're all still here," Brass said with a smile.

"Nick is still missing," Sara said, leaning forward as her anger and impatience took over.

"Who?" Kelly asked.

"The CSI is still missing," Sara repeated angrily. "Do you know where he is?"

"It's pretty funny," she said, "you guys not being able to find something."

"Yeah," Brass said. "Look, if you'll cooperate, we can get your sentence reduced."

Kelly went on and on for awhile about the horticulture she had studied before being sent to jail, and about working outside, making things grow. Finally, she leaned forward, anger sparkling in her eyes just as it had in Sara's only moments before.

"I hope your friend dies," she spat at them.

"Okay," Brass said. "Okay. Officer, please return Ms. Gordon to her cell."

"Yes, sir."

Kelly was led away, and Sara bowed her head.

"Hey," Brass said, "it wasn't for naught. We did learn a few things."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"We learned Gordon's true motive – avenging his daughter's imprisonment."

Sara shook her head. "Motive isn't my business, Jim. You know that."

"We learned that Kelly worked in horticulture," Brass continued. "That might be useful later."

"Yeah," Sara said sarcastically. "If I see Nick being attacked by a man-eating plant, I'll be sure to give her a call."

* * *

Sara felt defeated as she walked back into the lab. She found Grissom and Archie together in the A/V lab, still watching Nick, each sitting in front of his own monitor.

"How did it go?" Grissom asked eagerly.

Sara shrugged. "She claimed she didn't know anything. But, she hates us all enough for putting her in jail that she'd say that even if she were sitting on top of Nick."

"You did your best, Sara," Grissom said. "You found a lead and you followed it."

"Yeah," Sara said, sitting down next to Archie. "I just wish it had led somewhere." She looked at Nick for a minute. "How's he doing?"

"It looked like the plastic started to crack a bit ago," Archie said. "But, it's stopped, and he seems pretty calm."

"Good. Any other news?"

"Catherine, Warrick and Greg think they've found the prototype for the coffin," Grissom said. "It was buried at the warehouse. They're with Hodges tearing it apart right now."

Sara nodded and looked back at Nick. She could see a tape recorder in his hands. "What's that?"

"I haven't seen it before," Archie said.

They watched as he pressed a button and his lips begin to move. Grissom's eyes were riveted to the screen, his lips moving silently as he watched Nick's, reading his muted words. He sighed. Nick was taping farewell messages to his family and friends. Grissom prayed that he was only being overly cautious and not giving up entirely.

_Grissom_ –

Grissom sat up straighter as Nick's message switched from the team in general to him.

_I'm sorry if I ever disappointed you._

"No, you never did, Nick," Grissom said quietly. He would tell him that in person, the first chance he had.

Nick looked as though he would go on with personal message for each of the team, then his face contorted. He looked down toward his feet, his mouth opening in what was probably a terrified, painful scream. He began to shake uncontrollably, still screaming. Grissom leaned even closer to the screen, shock crossing his face.

"He's going into convolutions," Sara said to Archie. She turned slightly toward Grissom. "He's losing it!" she cried. "What's going on?"

"Wait a minute," Grissom said, noticing movement in one corner of the box. He enlarged part of the image; Sara and Archie turned to look at him as he studied it. "Ants," he said quietly, watching in horror as they crawled all over Nick. "My God. He's being eaten alive."

"Griss, tell me that's a hyperbole," Sara exclaimed.

"We need to find him," Grissom said, controlled panic bubbling beneath the surface. "This might just be the thing …"

Sara jumped out of her seat and took a spot just behind Grissom. For what felt like the thousandth time, tears filled her eyes as she watched the ants crawling all over Nick's face. They watched as Nick squeezed his eyes and mouth shut. He ripped off part of his shirt sleeve and shoved it into his nose to keep the bugs out. Then, he did his best to hold as still as possible.

"That's it, Nicky," Grissom said with a trace of pride in his voice. "Hold still. They won't bite. … As much."

"Grissom," Sara sighed in exasperation.

"Sorry," he smiled. "But, it's true."

She shook her head. "How can these bugs help us find him?"

"I just need to identify them," Grissom said. "If they like a particular type of soil, we can trace them that way."

"Sounds like a long shot."

"Sounds like the best shot we've got right now."

Sara nodded, conceding his point. She stood and watched as he showed a patience she had never possessed, waiting for one of the ants to crawl across the webcam lens. He coaxed the bug in the same gentle voice he used with his dog, hoping to get a clear shot of it.

"Gotcha!" he finally exclaimed, freezing and printing the frame. He picked the picture up off the printer. "I'm going to go look this up," he said. "You two get the rest of the team together. Call everyone into the layout room. Get some maps, too."

Sara and Archie sprang into action while Grissom ran back to his office. He searched his bookshelves for a minute, then pulled down the textbook he wanted. After rifling through the pages, he found exactly what he was looking for.

Grissom burst into the layout room, where the rest of the team had already assembled.

"Fire ants," he said. "Very rare in Nevada; they don't like our soil. The only places you find them around Vegas are around plant and tree nurseries."

"There's eleven nurseries in the greater Las Vegas area," said Catherine, who was searching nurseries on the computer.

"Okay," Archie said, pulling out a black dry erase marker. "I've got the webcam trace down to here." He circled a somewhat narrow area on the transparency map.

"And the data from the black box in Walter Gordon's truck gave us a twenty-three mile travel radius," Greg said, drawing his own, red circle that overlapped with part of Archie's.

"Okay," Warrick said, moving from the computer to the table. "I've got two nurseries in the overlap area. Here and here." Two blue x marks were added to the map.

"Wait," Sara exclaimed. "Wait, wait, wait! Kelly Gordon – the daughter – worked with plants. Hold on."

She ran out of the layout room and to Grissom's office, where Kelly's file was still sitting on his desk. She picked it up and scanned the information, looking for Kelly's place of employment. When she saw it …

She ran back into the layout room, feeling almost jubilant.

"Guys, Nick is here," she exclaimed, putting her finger on one of Warrick's nurseries.

"You're sure?" Grissom asked.

"It's where she worked," Sara replied. "Griss, you know as well as I do that this whole thing has been about Kelly. The cup, the address …"

"Yeah," Grissom said. "Okay. Let me call them to make sure they have fire ants. If they do …"

He pulled out his phone. Catherine called out the phone number that Google had provided. Tense silence filled the air as Grissom listened to it ring.

"Hello," he said at long last. "My name is Gil Grissom. I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and I'd like to ask you a few questions. … No, I don't think that you've committed a crime. I think a crime may have been committed at your nursery. … No, no one has reported anything. It's all part of an investigation. … Thank you. Can you tell me if there's a fire ant hill at your nursery? … There is? … Yes, that's exactly what I needed to know. I'll be there shortly with some police officers. … Thank you."

He closed his phone and gave them a grin. "It looks like we've found him. Let's go."


	30. Rescue

A/N: Whew! Finally. We'll pull "Grave Danger" to a close in this chapter. It's been a very intense ride, and I'm glad you took it with me.

This will be the last of the rapid updates for awhile. I don't have another day off till March, so I'll be back to my normal "definitely on weekends, but hopefully during the week, too" update schedule. This week will be a little nutty, too – my students start exams tomorrow, so I'll be really busy with those till my grades are due next Monday. So, I'm hoping to have a chapter posted over the weekend, but I really just can't promise anything. I'm shooting for early next week. If it's done faster, I'll post it faster.

Thanks for reading, reviewing and, most of all, your patience. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 525, "Grave Danger" (Volume 2).

* * *

_Rescue_

"Okay," Grissom said, hanging up his phone for a third time. "Ecklie's calling in all available CSIs, and Brass is bringing pretty much the entire police force. We're going to caravan to the nursery. Are you all ready to go?"

There was a mad rush as the team ran to grab jackets and kits. As Catherine was about to dart from the room, Archie stopped her.

"Take this," he said, pressing a piece of equipment into her hands. "It'll pick up the webcam transmitter. The transmitter should be right on top of Nick. If you follow the signal, it'll lead you straight to him."

"Thanks, Arch," she said. "I'll call you as soon as we've got him."

He nodded. "Good luck."

She nodded, then ran out after the rest of the team.

* * *

Strangely enough, there was no discussion as to who would drive, or who would ride with whom. Grissom and Warrick each jumped behind the wheel of a department-issue Denali. Sara climbed in next to Grissom; Greg jumped in behind her. Catherine took her place beside Warrick.

Grissom raised his phone, pressing the button to use its walkie-talkie feature. "This is CSI Grissom. Is everyone ready to go?"

A chorus of assenting voices came back through his phone. Nodding, he turned on the lights and sirens, and led the caravan out of the parking lot and toward the nursery.

Silence reigned in the SUV during their tense ride to the nursery. They were all beyond the point of being able to converse. Sara found that she kept her right foot jammed against the floorboard, as if it would somehow make Grissom drive faster.

Finally, at long last, Grissom turned down the drive into the nursery. He pulled to a stop beside the owner, who had come to open the grounds for them. Grissom, Sara and Greg were practically out of the car before it was in park.

"You said on the phone that you have a fire ant mound; where is it?" he asked the man.

"I usually prefer to stay away from it," the owner said, leading them to the mound.

He led them to a massive fire ant mound. Grissom looked at if for a moment, knowing that it was the source of the ants he had seen crawling all over poor Nick.

"All right, look," he instructed the team, "fan out. Look for loose soil – anything that might have been dug up recently."

"That's the whole place," Brass commented in an undertone.

Grissom glared at him, and he fell silent.

Sara walked slowly between two rows of trees, wanting to smack the cops who were running around the nursery. If they were running, how would they ever spot anything? Didn't they know how to _look_, as Grissom had told them to do?

"Hey!" Catherine yelled, cutting through Sara's thoughts. "I'm picking up the webcam transmitter!"

Sara took off at a run. In a matter of moments, she caught up with Warrick, Greg and a bevy of cops. They all followed Catherine, spreading out to search in the same general direction that she was walking.

"This is it!" she yelled. "I found it! It's here! I found it!"

Sara, Grissom, Greg, Warrick and Brass ran across the nursery to her. By the time they reached her, she had found a pipe that clearly provided Nick with air.

"Nick!" she yelled into the pipe. "Nick, we're here! Hang on, Nicky!"

"We need shovels!" Warrick yelled.

A police SUV came crashing through to them. Two cops jumped out and threw open the back hatch; they began pulling out shovels. Warrick grabbed the first one that came through and started digging. Several cops grabbed shovels and jumped in to help him. Sara stood next to Grissom, watching their far-too-slow progress.

"We found him," she whispered. "He's really going to be okay."

Grissom glanced at her, but remained silent. Until he saw Nick with his own eyes, until the paramedics had declared him fine, he couldn't feel relief. It wasn't over – not yet.

"I hit something!" Warrick exclaimed.

"We gotcha, Nicky," Catherine called, hoping that her voice would carry into the box so that Nick could hear her.

Warrick abandoned his shovel, and began shoving the dirt aside with his hands. Sara's heart lifted as she saw the Plexiglas they had been staring at on a monitor for what felt like forever come into view.

"Hey!" Warrick yelled as he uncovered Nick's face. "Hey! We got you, man! Hey! Nicky! Nicky! Hey, hold on there! Hey!" Warrick's voice suddenly held a bit of panic. "Put that down! Put that down! Put that down; we got you. We're gonna get you outta here. Hang in there." He looked back. "We need that fire extinguisher! Get me that fire extinguisher!"

Sara felt tears spring into her eyes again. Nick was rubbing his hand across the top of the box, removing the condensation that prevented him from seeing Warrick clearly. She stepped closer to see him, needing to know that he was all right, and watched as he lowered the gun that had clearly been pressed under his chin before Warrick yelled at him to put it down. He was nodding at Warrick with tears in his eyes. Sara stepped back slightly. This time, she couldn't help herself. She grabbed Grissom's arm. He looked at her, some of the panic starting to ease from his eyes.

Greg ran to them with the fire extinguisher, and Sara unhanded Grissom. They both stepped closer, ready to offer any assistance they could.

Warrick used his shovel to open one corner of the lid of the box.

"Short bursts, Greg," Grissom cautioned as he stepped up to use the extinguisher to kill the ants. "Don't suffocate him."

While Warrick held the corner of the box up with the shovel, Greg sent short blasts of foam from the fire extinguisher into the box. The ants died as it touched them, providing Nick with some relief.

"Hang on, buddy, hang on," Warrick said as he and Greg moved to repeat the process at Nick's feet. "You're almost out of there."

"Get the paramedics!" Sara yelled.

Greg and Warrick finally finished their fire ant killing mission.

"Okay, let's do this," Warrick said.

Sara, Greg and Brass jumped down with him. Barely noticing that Catherine was answering her phone and talking to someone on the other end with mounting panic, they each grabbed part of the lid, ready to pull it up and off Nick.

"Everyone out of the hole!" Catherine yelled, pulling her phone away from her ear. "The box is ready to explode!"

"Are you kidding?" Warrick cried.

"Get out of there now!" Catherine yelled.

Greg and Brass backed off, but Sara and Warrick both remained.

"I'm not leaving without Nick!" Warrick yelled back.

"There are _charges_ under the box," Catherine said desperately.

Sara looked up at Grissom and saw the very real panic return to his eyes. She remembered how she had felt when he had left to meet Nick's kidnapper. She couldn't do that to him – she couldn't put him through that. She slowly backed away, feeling her heart break for Nick.

"I'm not leaving without him," Warrick yelled.

"Warrick, Catherine's right," Grissom commanded. "Get out of the hole. Now."

Warrick looked at him as though he had lost his mind.

"I know what we're gonna do," Grissom continued. "Just trust me."

Warrick looked at Nick and slowly stood up. Nick began to scream, beating his hands against the top of the box.

"We need two hundred pounds of dirt over here right now and we're gonna use that backhoe to get it," Grissom yelled.

The cops ran off to do his bidding.

"_Help_!" Nick yelled desperately, smacking his hands against the lid of the box.

Grissom jumped down into the hole. He brushed the dirt off the top of the box until he could see Nick clearly. He was shaking and looked close to losing it completely.

"Nick!" Grissom yelled. "Can you hear me?"

Nick continued to sob and shake.

"It's gonna take us a minute to get you out of there, okay?" Grissom explained. "Nick!"

Nick was nearly hysterical, beyond hearing anything that Grissom was saying. Grissom knew that he needed to snap him out of it somehow … he remembered what Nick's father had said while watching the webcam feed …

"Pancho!" Grissom yelled.

Nick immediately stopped crying, screaming, shaking. He looked at Grissom in wonder.

"Listen to me!" Grissom yelled. He put his hand flat on the top of the box. "Put your hand on my hand."

Slowly, Nick reached up and put his hand directly under Grissom's, his eyes trained on Grissom's face.

"Good," Grissom said, relieved he had managed to bring Nick back to coherency. He began to speak in a calming, gentle voice. "Now, listen. There may be explosives under the box."

Nick's head dropped back as he fully understood Grissom's words.

"They're probably set on pressure switches," Grissom continued in the same gentle voice. "We need to equalize your body weight before we can pull you out, okay? Pancho, nod your head if you understand me."

Slowly, Nick nodded.

Grissom straightened up and looked at the others. "Okay, we're gonna use the dirt from the backhoe to equalize his body weight." He turned and looked at Sara. "I need a rope and a carabineer."

Sara was off and running before he even looked away from her.

Grissom turned back to Nick, putting his hand flat on the box again. Nick immediately reached up to put his hand under Grissom's.

"All right, Pancho," Grissom said. "We're gonna open the lid and get you out. But, I need you stay lying down. Okay? Or else you'll blow us all up. You understand that?"

Nick nodded weakly.

"Do you promise?" Grissom asked.

Nick nodded again.

"Pancho, say 'I promise,'" Grissom commanded.

"I promise," Nick sobbed.

Grissom looked up and nodded to Warrick, who was hovering just above him. Warrick jumped down into the hole with him. Sara appeared above them with the rope and carabineer Grissom had requested. Catherine and several cops led the backhoe over to them. Warrick and Grissom both slid their hands under the box lid.

"Don't move," Grissom cautioned.

They lifted the lid up, and Grissom immediately put a hand on Nick's chest. Sobbing, Nick reached up to grab Grissom's arm. Warrick reached down, and Nick grabbed him with his other hand.

"I got you," Warrick said softly. "Lay still. Lay still. It's okay. It's okay."

"Okay," Nick said softly, slowly regaining control. "Okay." He began to take deep breaths, trying to stop shaking.

"All right, bring that over," Grissom called to those directing the backhoe.

Sara jumped down with them and attached the carabineer to Nick's belt buckle. Grissom grabbed the rope she had tied to it and pulled it back. Catherine, Greg, Sara, Warrick, Brass and another cop jumped in behind him, each grabbing onto the rope, ready to pull.

"Okay, Pancho," Grissom called to him, "I want you to close your eyes and hold your breath."

Nick nodded, doing as Grissom instructed.

"Now!" Grissom yelled.

The backhoe tipped the dirt into the hole.

"Ready?" Grissom yelled to those standing behind him. "_Go_!"

All those holding the rope pulled back. Nick came flying out of the coffin, pulled forward by the rope. The box exploded, but the falling dirt muffled the explosion. Nick landed on his face, shaking and shivering.

Warrick, Grissom and Sara reached him first, even ahead of the paramedics. Warrick and Grissom gently turned Nick over so that he was face up. Sara reached out and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Oh, Nicky," she sighed.

The paramedics arrived, unceremoniously shoving the CSIs out of their way. They loaded Nick onto a gurney, and took him to the waiting ambulance. Again, without discussing it, it was understood that Catherine and Warrick would accompany him to the hospital. They climbed into the ambulance with him, reaching out to hold his hands as the EMTs closed the doors.

Sara stood between Grissom and Brass, watching them drive away. She wanted nothing more than to go with them, but it wasn't her place anymore. Nick wasn't her teammate. Ecklie, who was standing on the other side of Grissom, his face ashen, was the reason for that.

Grissom exhaled forcefully. Without taking his eyes off the departing ambulance, he spoke to Ecklie.

"I want my guys back."

Ecklie looked at him, but remained silent.

Grissom turned to Sara and Greg. "Come on. Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Greg asked.

"To the hospital," Grissom replied. "We need to be there with Nick."

"But, the crime scene …"

"Dayshift will take care of it," Ecklie cut in. "It'll still be your crime scene. I'll just have them cover for tonight."

Grissom turned to him with a nod. "Thanks, Conrad."

He nodded. "Give Nick and his family my best."

"We will."

* * *

Again, no words were exchanged to decide who would drive. This time, though, it was Sara who climbed behind the wheel of the SUV. Grissom took the seat next to her, while Greg again climbed into the back.

It was a silent ride to the hospital. Sara occasionally glanced over at Grissom or back at Greg. Neither of them looked back at her – at least, not while she was looking.

They finally reached Desert Palm. Sara parked in the visitors' lot, and they climbed out of the SUV. Without really thinking about it, Sara reached for Grissom's hand as they crossed the parking lot. He looked at her in surprise, but grasped her hand. Shock reverberated through her as she realized what she had done. In an effort to cover her tracks, she reached her other hand out to Greg. He took her hand, holding it firmly in his.

They all dropped hands as they reached the front doors – there was no way all three of them could enter side by side. Grissom held the door for Sara; he and Greg entered just behind her. A receptionist smiled at them.

"May I help you?"

"We're looking for the emergency room," Sara said.

The woman spouted off directions that Sara was sure she'd never be able to follow. She stood still and stared at her, trying to decide if she should ask for the directions again or if she should try to find it on her own. Grissom grabbed her arm, steering her to the left.

"Did you get any of that?" Sara asked in an undertone.

"Yes," Grissom said. "Let's go."

He led them through the hospital to the emergency waiting area. Catherine and Warrick were already seated there.

"You made it," Catherine said, her face brightening at the sight of them. She jumped up and hugged Grissom tightly.

Warrick followed in her footsteps, pulling Sara to him. She clung to him for a minute.

"How is he?" she asked when she pulled back.

"He's still in with the doctors," Warrick said.

"Have you called his parents?" Grissom asked as they crossed the room to take seats.

"Yes," Catherine replied. "They're on their way."

Sara sat down between Grissom and Greg. She wanted nothing more than to grab Grissom's hand and to lean against his shoulder, but she held herself upright. This was not the time, this was not the place …

The wait seemed to stretch on forever. Nick's parents arrived, adding their nervous energy to the mix. His mother was in tears as soon as she walked into the waiting area.

"Where's Nicky?" she asked.

"He's still being examined," Grissom said.

She nodded and sat down next to Catherine, across from Grissom. Her husband sat down on her other side.

"Where was our Nick?" he asked.

"He was buried in a nursery," Grissom replied.

"A nursery?" Mrs. Stokes asked blankly. "How did you find him?"

Grissom looked at Catherine for a moment, then back at the Stokeses. "We followed the evidence."

Thankfully, that was enough for them. Grissom did not think they could handle hearing the full story of how they had pulled Nick from the hell in which he had been buried.

"Excuse me," a tall doctor said, joining them. "Are you here with Nick Stokes?"

As one, they jumped to their feet. The doctor smiled at them.

"I'm Dr. Edwards," he said. "I've been treating Nick since he got here. I'm sure you'll all be glad to know that he's going to be just fine."

"Oh, thank God."

This time, Sara gave in and hugged Grissom. He hugged her back, just stopping himself from pressing a kiss against her temple. They pulled apart, and he hugged Catherine, while Sara hugged first Greg, and then Warrick.

"Can we see him?" Catherine asked, blinking back tears.

"Only two at a time for now," Dr. Edward cautioned. "He's going to be admitted, so as soon as medicine has a bed for him, they'll let you all see him. But, for now, in the ER, we can only allow two visitors."

The team sat back down, and the Stokeses, who both had tears in their eyes, followed the doctor to Nick's room.

"Thank God," Catherine murmured, wiping tears from her eyes. "Thank God."

"Hey," Warrick said, looking at her with concern.

Catherine looked at him for a minute, then buried her face in his shoulder. He put his arm around her.

"It's over," he said quietly. "It's over."

Catherine got herself under control and looked up at the others. "What should we do? Should we wait to see Nick? Should we leave and let him have some time with his parents?"

As if in answer to her question, Dr. Edwards came back out into the waiting area.

"We're moving Nick to room 1039," he said. "If you'd like to go upstairs, the nurses there will tell you when you can see him."

Again moving as one, they got up from their seats and made their way to the elevator.

* * *

They had to wait a bit longer once they arrived on Nick's new floor. His parents, understandably, wanted some time alone with their son. Finally, his father came to the waiting room and asked them to say hello to Nick.

Nick looked exhausted, but better. At the very least, he was smiling up at them.

"I want to thank all of you," he said quietly. "You saved my life."

"Oh, Nicky," Sara sighed.

"No, really," he said. "I know how hard you worked to find me, and to get me out of there. Without you guys …"

"Don't even think it, Nicky," Catherine said, a harsh edge to her voice.

"Okay," he said. "Just … thank you."

Grissom reached down and touched his hand. "Rest, Nick. We'll take care of things until you're well enough to come back to work."

Nick smiled at them, looking at Warrick, Greg and Sara. "Don't touch my stuff while I'm gone."

Greg grinned. "Well, I hadn't thought of it, but now that you've given me the idea …"

Warrick smiled. "Don't worry, Nicky. I'll keep Greg out of your locker."

"You take care, Nicky," Sara said quietly. She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "We'll be waiting for you."

Nick smiled up at her. "Thanks, Sar."

One by one, the team bade Nick farewell and filed from the room. Finally, only Grissom remained.

He smiled and stepped closer, again putting his hand over Nick's. "I'm proud of you," he said quietly. "I always have been, ever since you first started with us. And, Nicky, I need you to know that you've never once let me down or disappointed me.'

Nick looked up at him, surprise crossing his face. Slowly, tears filled his eyes. "Thanks, Griss," he finally whispered. "Thanks."

Grissom patted his hand. "Get well, Nicky."

"Yeah," Nick said quietly. "Yeah."

Grissom smiled at him one last time, then joined the others in the hall. They were all grinning. Grissom could understand why.

"It's great to see Nick again, isn't it?" he said.

"Actually, Griss, that's not why we were laughing," Greg grinned.

"Oh?"

Sara laughed outright. "We just realized that we're all taking one car back to the lab."

Grissom did laugh at that. "Well, let's see how that works out."

* * *

One very cramped ride later, they arrived at the lab. After putting away their kits and the equipment they had brought back with them, they all started to say good night and take their leave. It wasn't quite the same as usual, though – they all stopped to give out a round of hugs and handshakes before leaving for the night.

Finally, only Grissom and Sara were left in the lab. He looked at her with tender eyes.

"Will you come home with me?" he whispered.

Sara nodded. This was one night that she didn't want to be alone.

For the sake of keeping up appearances, they drove to Grissom's townhouse separately. Sara parked her car behind his in his driveway and climbed out. He was waiting so they could walk in together. As soon as she reached him, he took her hand.

They didn't speak until they were inside, with the door locked behind them. Grissom put his keys away and hung both their jackets in the closet. Then, with a suddenness that shocked Sara, he grabbed her and pulled her into a crushing embrace. She clung to him just as tightly, feeling unbidden tears press against her eyes. This time, she didn't even try to swallow them. She began to sob, clinging to Grissom to stay on her feet.

"Hey," he whispered, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. "It's going to be okay. It's over now. Nicky's fine."

"I know," she sobbed. "Oh, God, Griss, that was so horrible. That was so horrible."

"I know," he murmured. "I know."

Grissom waited until the worst of Sara's tears had ended, then led her to the couch. They sat down together and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. She swallowed. "That was the scariest thing … from beginning to end, I don't know when I've been so scared."

"I know," Grissom said, hugging her close. "Sara, I want to apologize."

"For what?"

"For going to meet that kidnapper."

Sara twisted her head around to look at him. "What do you mean? That was a good thing. It helped us find Nick."

"Yeah, but …"

"But, what?"

"I know you were scared when I left," he said slowly. "I just didn't realize how terrifying it was until you were down in that hole and Catherine said there were charges under the box." He shivered. "God, Sara, if it had blown up with you on top of it …"

"Shhh," she said, placing a finger over his lips. "It didn't. I'm fine. I'm right here with you."

He smiled and kissed her temple. "Thank God," he murmured.

They cuddled together quietly for a time, each lost in thought, both glad to be together. It was Sara who finally broke their silence.

"You know, Griss, at the hospital..."

Grissom looked at her, confused by the strained tone of her voice. "What about it?"

"I just …"

"Just what?"

"I _needed_ you."

"Sweetheart, I was right there," he said, frowning. "I was sitting right next to you."

"No, it's …"

"It's what?"

"God, Gil, I wanted to touch you so badly," Sara said in a rush. "I wanted to hold your hand, or to hug you, or … I watched Catherine put her head on Warrick's shoulder, and I was so _jealous_."

"Jealous?"

"Yes! I was jealous because she can do that. And, she can do that because there's nothing going on between them. They don't have to worry that they'll be fired every time they touch each other."

"Sara, we knew when we started this that it would be this way," Grissom said. "What we're doing … it's against departmental policy." He tightened his arms around her. "But, Sara," he continued, his voice just above a whisper, "I'd far rather not touch you at work and have what we have than to be able to hug you in front of Greg and just be your boss."

Sara shivered slightly and turned to face him. "I would, too," she admitted.

Grissom smiled, and leaned forward to kiss her. Sara sighed against him, letting her tongue slide into his mouth. Grissom lay back, pulling Sara down on top of him as they continued to kiss passionately.

Grissom finally broke the kiss and smiled at her again. Sara smiled back, and laid her head on his chest.

"Can we just stay like this forever?" she asked.

Grissom chuckled, the sound vibrating through her. "We could. But, I think we'll probably get hungry eventually."

Sara smiled. "I suppose you might be right on that one."

"Sara?"

"Hm?" she asked, raising her head so she could look at him.

He bit his lip. "Will you stay with me tonight?" He repeated the words she had used when asking him to stay with her after their case at Desert State, "I … I want to know that you're next to me."

Sara nodded. "Yes."

He smiled. "Good. Let me take you to bed."

Sara giggled. "Such innuendo."

"Oh, you know what I mean."

"Yeah," she smiled, "I do."

They got up off the couch, and Grissom took Sara's hand to lead her to his bedroom. He pulled back the covers and glanced at her.

"Um … I can lend you a t-shirt to sleep in, if you'd like."

Sara nodded. "I'd like."

Grissom pulled a soft, cotton shirt from a drawer and handed it to her.

All modesty suddenly gone, Sara pulled off her jeans and shirt and pulled Grissom's shirt on instead. Feeling like a fifteen-year-old in gym class, she unhooked her bra under the shirt and pulled it out through the arm. Grissom watched in fascination. She couldn't help but giggle.

"Offended?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Impressed," he said quite honestly.

Sara flushed slightly. "Which side …?"

"Take that one."

Sara crawled into bed while Grissom pulled off his own clothes, stopping at his boxers. He climbed into bed next to her, reaching out to pull her closer to him. She snuggled against him, using his chest as her pillow. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"Sara?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for staying."

She looked up at him with a sleepy smile. "This is where we belong, Gil. Don't you think?"

"Yes," he smiled, tightening his arms around her. "It is."


	31. Explorations

A/N: Well, here you are – an earlier than anticipated update. Of course, this chapter was completed at the cost of the sixty finals that I have yet to correct. Hopefully, it's worth it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy this chapter … And, while you do that, I'll be correcting my finals.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Explorations_

Sara awoke slowly, struggling to bring herself back to awareness. She managed to open her eyes, and found herself staring at deep blue sheets.

Deep blue sheets? Her sheets were lavender.

Fully awake, she lifted her head as she looked around. A slow smile spread across her face as she realized where she was.

She was in Grissom's bedroom. Even though the reason she was there – providing and receiving comfort after nearly watching their friend die – was horrible, she couldn't help the warm, tingly feeling that spread through her at the fact that she had slept in Grissom's bed. She turned to the other side, smiling, ready to greet him.

He wasn't there.

She sat up halfway, looking around with a frown. "Griss?" she called.

He popped out of the bathroom, a toothbrush clenched between his lips. He pulled it out of his mouth and smiled at her.

"Good morning," he mumbled around his mouthful of toothpaste.

"Good morning," she replied, her beaming smile back in place.

Grissom ducked back into the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth, then returned to the bedroom. Sara was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, a contented smile on her face. Grissom joined her on the bed, lying down beside her and propping himself up on an elbow so he could look at her.

"Hey," he smiled, running his hand over her cheek and through her hair.

"Hey," she echoed, turning her head to kiss his palm as he repeated the motion.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Mm-hm."

He paused, and licked his lips. "Even after … everything?"

Sara nodded slowly. "You?"

He nodded just as slowly, his fingers dancing through her hair, letting the chocolate strands slip through them.

"I think … just knowing you were beside me … helped me sleep," Sara said slowly, coming to the realization herself as she spoke the words. "You make me feel safe," she finished, her voice just above a whisper.

"I'll always keep you safe."

"I know." She smiled up at him and reached up for his other hand, lacing her fingers through his.

Grissom looked down at her for a moment, watching as she smiled at the sight of their joined hands. She was so beautiful, so trusting, so … wonderful. He didn't understand how this absolutely perfect woman would agree to be with him the way she was, but he knew better than to question it. To question it would mean that there was a chance it would end – and an ending was not what he wanted for his relationship with Sara.

He moved his hand across her cheek again, gently caressing her face and then sliding down to her neck. He watched its slow progression as it dipped even lower, knowing that his current thoughts were anything but pure. There was something about the sight of her in his t-shirt that left him … very aroused. He dipped his head down to kiss the neck that he had exposed as he played with her hair.

Sara gasped, tilting her head to the side. "God, Griss, where did that come from?"

"Bad grammar," he murmured, his hand sliding through her hair to cradle her head as he continued to kiss her neck.

"You are … such … a … geek …"

He laughed against her skin. "And you're not?" Without waiting for a reply, he attacked her neck with his lips again.

Sara gasped again, then ran her fingers through his hair, gently pulling his head up so she could look into his eyes. "It's not that I don't appreciate what you're doing – because I _so_ do – it's just that … I can't exactly wear a scarf to work in late May the same way I could in the middle of winter …"

Grissom smiled. "Are you trying to tell me that I should concentrate on a different, less exposed, area?"

Sara's eyes widened at the implication. He smiled at her, then grabbed the bottom hem of the shirt she wore. He folded it up, leaving it covering her chest. He slid down slightly, and began to press kisses against the smooth skin of her stomach.

Sara's breath caught at the sensation, and she immediately reached down, threading her fingers through his hair.

"Where did you learn to be so good at this?"

He laughed, kissing her again. His hand trailed down her body, the tips of his fingers toying with the waistband of her panties.

"Sara …?"

Whatever answer she would have given to his unspoken but obvious question was cut off by the ringing of a cell phone. He pulled back from her and looked at her. Both of them were flushed and stared at each other with glazed eyes.

"Mine or yours?" she gasped.

"Mine," he replied with more than a little irritation in his voice.

"Ignore it," she urged, sitting up slightly to press kisses into his chest, her hands finding their way to his torso, where they began to roam freely.

"It might be about Nick," he said. He twisted away from her slightly to reach onto his nightstand for his phone. He looked at the name on the display and groaned. Sliding away from Sara and her wandering hands, he flipped the phone open. "Grissom."

Sara sat back and watched as he talked to the unknown person on the other end.

"No, I was awake. … Yes, of course. … I suppose I can. … Yes, that's fine. … I'll see you then. … Thank you. … Bye."

He closed the phone and put it back on the nightstand. Sara looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"You have no idea how much it pains me to say this, but I have to go in to work early."

Sara made a face. "I had a feeling. Was that Catherine?"

"No, it was Ecklie," Grissom replied. "He wants to talk to me about the past couple days."

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah." Grissom climbed out of bed, running his hand through his very tousled hair. "I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you get a little more sleep? We have hours before you have to be at work."

"If you insist," Sara said. While she was quite awake, she knew that the action of lying down – alone – would be enough to send her back into a peaceful slumber. Everything that had happened with Nick had taken a toll on her.

Grissom smiled as she fell back onto the bed, pulling the covers up around herself. He brushed her hair back from her face.

"I'll wake you to say good bye before I go."

She nodded. "Have a nice shower."

He kissed her cheek, then padded back into the bathroom. He had only been gone for a moment before Sara fell asleep.

* * *

She awoke to the feel of light, tender kisses against her face. She smiled even before her eyes were open. When she did manage to open them, it was to see Grissom bending over her, ready to drop another kiss onto her cheek.

"Hey," she said sleepily.

"Hi," he replied, smoothing her hair back. "I have to go to work."

"Okay."

"Stay as long as you want," he continued. "Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Just lock the door on your way out."

"Okay," she said again.

He kissed her forehead. "I'll see you in a few hours, okay?"

She nodded and smiled. "I'll miss you."

He smiled and straightened up. "Bye, Sara."

"Bye."

Grissom left the room, and Sara rolled onto her back. She heard the front door close and, a moment later, the sound of his car pulling out of the driveway. She rolled over, staring at the clock on his nightstand for a moment without really seeing the numbers, trying to decide what to do.

She could go home and shower, then wait for the time to pass until she had to leave for work. Or, she could stay at Grissom's house for awhile, then go home and shower and wait for less time to pass before she had to leave for work.

She decided to stay.

Setting the alarm on her cell phone, she snuggled back down in his bed. This time, however, she grabbed his pillow. She hugged it to her chest, bowing her head to breathe deeply. His scent, so prevalent in his pillow, invaded her olfactory receptors.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

Grissom arrived at the lab after the swing shift had already started. He didn't see Catherine or Warrick, but didn't find that odd. They could easily be hidden away in the lab as they worked on evidence or they could even be out in the field. Without running into one of them, his path to Ecklie's office seemed shorter than it often was.

As anticipated, Ecklie was in his office, waiting for Grissom. Grissom knocked lightly on the door as he made his way into the small room.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Hi, Gil," Ecklie replied. "Have a seat."

Grissom nodded and sat down across his desk from him.

"How are you?" Ecklie asked.

"Fine."

"Good." Ecklie pulled a file and pen from his desk. "I wanted to talk to you about everything that's happened in the past few days."

Grissom nodded. "Okay."

"I just have a few questions about Nick's … abduction."

Grissom nodded again, inviting him to ask his questions.

"Now, when the call about Nick's kidnapping came in, swing was still here," Ecklie began. "Brass told me that he took the news to Catherine first. Why was it that you took over running the investigation?"

Grissom frowned slightly, trying to remember. "Catherine came to me," he said. "She told me what had happened, and … I guess I just took over. I don't remember us discussing it or deciding that I would run it instead of her. It just sort of happened that way."

Ecklie nodded. "And, you brought both your shifts together."

"They were here and we were here," Grissom said. "You said yourself that Nick's kidnapping was the only case the lab was working until he was back with us."

"Right," Ecklie agreed.

Grissom frowned slightly. "Is this an inquiry into my handling of the case? Do you believe that I overstepped my bounds and took over when I should have let Catherine handle things?"

"No," Ecklie replied. He put his pen down and looked Grissom straight in the eye. "Last night, you asked me – no, better put, you _demanded_ that I put your team back in your hands. When you asked to have your guys back, I can only assume that you meant Nick, Warrick and Catherine."

Grissom's eyes widened ever so slightly as he nodded. He had not realized that Ecklie would take him task for his words so quickly. After everything that had happened from the moment Catherine ran into his office with the news that Nick had been kidnapped until he stood back and watched Nick leave in an ambulance with Catherine and Warrick, Grissom knew what he wanted – and, even more importantly, he was prepared to fight for it. And, fight he would.

"We work best as a team, Conrad," he said quietly. "Nick, Warrick, Catherine – they all work better when they're with Sara, Greg and me. And, the three of us work better with them. We had been together for years when you split us up. You can't say that we were an ineffective team. I think that everything that's happened in the past two days shows how much better we work together."

Ecklie nodded slowly. "You're right," he said simply.

Grissom stared him in shock. He had not anticipated this being so easy.

"Individually, you are all great criminalists – even Sidle," he admitted grudgingly. "But, together, you do have a connection that is very hard to achieve in any team. It's …" He paused, and Grissom knew that when he continued, his words cost him a great deal, "It's something I've never been able to achieve with any team I led."

Grissom remained silent. As much as he didn't play politics, he knew that this was one time when the politic thing to do was to keep his mouth shut.

"The issue, of course, is Catherine," Ecklie said. "She's been supervising a shift; I'm not sure how she'll take going back to grave and being subordinate to you."

Grissom's heart sank. In his eagerness to bring his team back together, he had not given much thought to the idea that this could mean a demotion for Catherine. "Have you brought it up with her?"

"No," Ecklie replied. "I wanted to talk to you first, to make sure that I understood what you wanted. There's no reason to upset her if you aren't serious."

"I'm very serious."

"I assumed as much."

Grissom paused, collecting his thoughts. "Would you like for me to talk to her?"

"No, I'll handle it."

"And, this will mean a demotion for her?" he asked almost sadly.

"Yes," Ecklie said bluntly. "Gil, I'll be honest. In the past, I've questioned your ability as a supervisor. Obviously, you're aware of that. I still don't agree with a lot of your methods, and I'm not willing to say that you're the most talented supervisor this lab has. I will admit, however, that the way you handled everything with Nick's kidnapping was exemplary. From the way you held the team together to the way you dealt with all the obstacles in your path, you truly showed that you do have what it takes to do your job.

"Catherine, on the other hand," he continued, "was more than willing to take a backseat to you. I'm not saying that was wrong; the last thing we needed was to have too many chiefs and not enough Indians. However, she showed me that she does her best work when she's working with you. And, she can't do that in her current position. So, yes, she will be demoted."

Grissom sighed. "I suppose I didn't really think that part through. I never meant to lose her promotion for her."

"Like I said, I'll take care of her," Ecklie said.

"Would you like me to be there when you speak with her?" Grissom asked. He glanced at his watch. "We still have some time before I have to start my shift. Could you call her in now?"

"She's off tonight," Ecklie said. "She needed a day after everything that happened."

"Of course."

"Which reminds me, I took Sofia for the night to supervise swing. With both Catherine and Nick out, there was no way …"

"Of course," Grissom said again.

"Once Catherine's back, Sofia's all yours again."

"Okay."

"Incidentally," Ecklie continued, opening another folder, "I see that you and Sara are both off for a weekend two weeks from now."

"Right," Grissom said. "I had talked to Catherine about borrowing Nick or Warrick for the weekend, but now …"

Ecklie raised an eyebrow. "I was more concerned about … Where will you be?"

"Oh," Grissom said. "Sara requested the time off over a month ago. She's going to visit her friend. She's going to be her baby's godmother."

"And, you?"

"My mother's birthday," Grissom replied. "She's turning eighty. I can't exactly miss that."

"Of course not."

Grissom didn't miss the slight note of sarcasm in Ecklie's voice. "May I ask why you're so interested?"

"I just find it a curious coincidence."

Grissom frowned. "Are you implying something, Conrad?"

Thinking that he must have been wrong in his assumptions, Ecklie shook his head. "No, I suppose not. I'll have someone from days help Sofia and Greg while you're away."

"Thank you."

"I'll tell you what," Ecklie said. "Things are confused enough already with Nick's medical leave. Let's leave the teams alone until after your weekend off. Once you're back, you, Catherine and I will sit down to discuss everything."

"Fine," Grissom replied.

Ecklie nodded. "Good luck tonight."

"Thanks," Grissom said, slowly standing. "Conrad – thank you. For everything."

Ecklie nodded, his expression suggesting that he hated being caught in a moment of kindness. "Don't mention it."

* * *

Sara awoke to the ringing of her cell phone. She grabbed it and flipped it open to turn off the alarm. Again, she felt slightly disoriented for a moment before remembering that she was in Grissom's townhouse. She smiled as she sat up in bed and stretched her arms over her head. Despite her worry for Nick, she couldn't deny the feeling of happiness and contentment that washed over her.

She finally pulled herself out of bed and took off Grissom's t-shirt. She folded it and put it on the dresser. After pulling on the clothes she had worn the day before, she made the bed. Feeling that she was leaving Grissom's home in order, she left the bedroom.

Many people find it impossible to "turn off" their professional lives. Nurses give compassionate looks to everyone they meet. Mothers try to nurture anyone who enters their homes. Teachers scold unknown children for being too loud. Crime scene investigators notice the details.

Sara couldn't help but notice the details that made up Grissom's life as she walked through his townhouse. Large frames held scores of mounted butterflies. A pair of latex gloves was tossed on the coffee table. A book of crossword puzzles was on the couch with a pen lying on top of it. She counted four pairs of reading glasses: one on the nightstand, one next to the computer, one on the coffee table and one in the kitchen. Every room of the house – with the exception of the bathrooms – held at least one bookcase, all of which were crammed full of books. Sara smiled as she studied the titles of the books stacked up on his desk next to his laptop – they all related to either forensics or entomology. Everything about his townhouse screamed out his personality to her – and everything about his townhouse seemed absolutely perfect.

Glancing at her watch, she realized that she had to either leave or risk being late for work. She still had to go home to shower and change before going to the lab. She shouldered her purse, and reluctantly left Grissom's home.

As she drove away, she decided that she needed to take a page from his book. She'd pack a bag with clothes and toiletries to leave in her car. That way, the next time she stayed at his house, she could truly _stay_, and not have to go home to change before work.

* * *

Despite spending far more time than she should have in Grissom's house, Sara arrived on time for her shift. Greg was in the locker room when she walked in; he looked at her with a small smile.

"Hey," she greeted him. She opened her locker to put her purse inside. "Are you okay?"

He nodded slowly.

"You don't look it."

He sighed. "Does this job ever … scare you?"

"Sure," Sara said easily. She slammed her locker closed. "But, really, Greg, anything in life that's worth doing is a little scary."

He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Our job … going away to school … moving to a new city … falling in love …" She smiled softly. "Sometimes, you just have to realize that the risk is worth it. You just have to close your eyes and jump, and know that the end result is worth all the scariness along the way."

Greg sighed. "I'd take the end results without the scariness."

She grinned. "But, if you did that, you'd miss the point."

He frowned slightly and shook his head. "Come on. We're going to be late."

They walked down the hall toward the break room, meeting up with Grissom as he came from another direction.

"Hi," he said with a smile. "We're all together tonight. We've got a triple at an off-Strip hotel."

"Great," Greg said. "I'll go get my kit."

He left, and Grissom turned to Sara. He glanced around to make sure that they were quite alone, then gave her a warm smile.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, flushing slightly. "There's something about being in your bed that feels so right."

"Then, we'll have to see about making sure that you sleep there more often."

Sara gaped at him, wondering if he meant what she thought that he meant. He winked at her, and started down the hallway.

"Are you coming? If Greg beats you to the car, he'll probably want to drive."

"Yeah," Sara said, shaking her head slightly, "yeah, I'm coming."

Apparently, Grissom didn't mind toeing the line while they were at work. Sara grinned at the thought. Being his girlfriend just got a whole lot more interesting.


	32. Respite

A/N: Okay, honestly, I'm terrified about this chapter. I really, really, _really_ hope you like it.

I don't own CSI, _Lassie_ or _Pat the Bunny_. But, I just bought the Valentine's Day _Pat the Bunny_ for my friend's two-month-old baby, and it's already her favorite book. Can I pick children's books or what:-p

* * *

_Respite_

"Well. I never thought I'd see _this_ happen."

Sara frowned as she looked up at Catherine. "I'm running fingerprints, Catherine. I've been known to do it before."

Catherine grinned. "Not the fingerprints, Sara. I just looked at the schedule and saw that you requested the weekend off!"

Sara's face lit up. "Yes, I did. I'm going to Boston for Mary's baby's baptism. I'm going to be her godmother."

"Oh, how sweet!" Catherine exclaimed, her own face lighting up. "What are you taking?"

"Taking?" Sara frowned.

"For the baby," Catherine clarified. "Your goddaughter. What are you taking for her?"

Sara's eyes widened. "I hadn't even thought about it."

"What?" Catherine's excitement quickly changed to disbelief. "You haven't bought her anything?"

Sara shook her head. "Should I?"

"Okay, that's it," Catherine said. "As soon as you're off, we're going shopping."

"What? Wait, Cath, don't get –"

"Oh, we're going," Catherine said, a _don't even try to stop me_ light shining in her eyes. "Make sure you're ready to go on time."

* * *

True to her word, Catherine was waiting for Sara when her shift ended. She grinned as she led Sara to her car.

"Where are you taking me?" Sara joked.

"To the mall," Catherine replied, pulling out of the lab's parking lot. "We have plenty of stores we need to hit."

"I don't know, Cath," Sara said. "How much does a baby need? It's not like she's really aware of anything yet."

"Babies know more than you realize," Catherine said. "Don't you at least want to take her a little stuffed animal?"

"I suppose," Sara said. "She could snuggle with it, right?"

"Of course."

Sara smiled. "Okay. Let's go to a toy store."

"We'll make that our first stop."

"We'll have more than one stop?"

Catherine grinned. "Let's see how things go at the toy store, first."

Sara had not been in a toy store in years. She had not realized how much she missed toys until she walked into the store. A sudden, inexplicable excitement overtook her, and she turned to Catherine with a grin.

"Where are the stuffed animals?"

Catherine looked around for a moment, searching for signs. "Over there."

They crossed the store, and found themselves staring at shelf after shelf of stuffed animals. Bears, lions, sheep, cats, cows … Sara was sure that any animal on the planet could be found in plush form in front of her.

"Oh, man," she said. "How will I ever pick one?"

"This one is cute," Catherine said, picking up a stuffed bear. "Oh, and it's so soft! Feel it."

Sara obliged her and patted the bear's head. "I suppose …"

Catherine smiled tolerantly. "This is going to take a minute, isn't it?"

"Probably," Sara replied, wandering farther down the aisle.

She found herself drawn to the stuffed dogs. She smiled at Catherine as she picked up a stuffed collie.

"I had one of these when I was little," she said. "I named it Lassie."

Catherine grinned. "Very original."

"Well, I was about four," Sara replied, putting the dog back on the shelf.

As she set it down, it knocked over the dog next to it. Sara righted it, noticing the toy behind it. It was a darling, huggable, boxer. It could have been Hank as a puppy. She gasped with delight and picked it up.

"This is the one," she declared. "Just look at its little face!"

Catherine smiled. "It _is_ sweet."

"I'm getting it for her. She's going to love it."

"Do you want to get her anything else?"

Sara made a face. "I'll bet everyone got her clothes. I'm sure she has enough pink dresses to outfit an entire daycare of little girls."

Catherine laughed. "Yeah, Lindsey outgrew half of her baby clothes before she even had a chance to wear them."

"I want to get her something she can use for awhile," Sara said.

"How about a book?"

Sara grinned. "Perfect! Her parents both have doctorates. If anyone's going to raise a geeky baby, it'd be them."

"I hope you're not speaking ill of geeks," Catherine teased.

"Never," Sara laughed. "Do they sell books here?"

"Yeah, they're over there."

After walking back across the store, Sara again found herself overwhelmed by the ridiculously large selection. She looked at Catherine with wide eyes.

"What will she like to read?"

Catherine smiled and surveyed the selection. "This was Lindsey's favorite when she was a baby."

Sara took the book, looking at the white bunny on the cover. "_Pat the Bunny_?"

"Trust me."

"Okay," Sara replied. "Let's go buy these."

* * *

An hour later, Sara walked through her front door completely exhausted, but thrilled with her purchases. As soon as she was inside, she called Grissom. She hoped he wasn't asleep as she listened to the phone ringing.

"Grissom," he said.

"What are you doing?" Sara asked.

"I'm walking to my car," he replied.

"You're just leaving work?"

"Yeah. We got a hit off a fingerprint, and I had to go to the interrogation. I'm going home now, though."

"Could you take a little detour?"

"I suppose. Where am I detouring?"

"To my house. Catherine just took me shopping to get some presents for Josie, and I want to show them to you."

"Okay," he said. "I'll be there in a little bit. I'll even bring breakfast."

"I knew I hung out with you for a reason."

Grissom laughed. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye," Sara replied.

She smiled as she closed her phone. She had not really expected to be able to spend her morning with Grissom. Her day was getting better and better.

* * *

"So, let's see what you got for the baby," Grissom said as he walked into Sara's apartment.

She smiled as she took the bags of bagels and cream cheese from him. "You don't want to eat first?"

"I don't want you to explode waiting to show me the baby's presents," he replied with a smile.

Sara grinned and went to retrieve her bag. "Well, I got her a book," she said, pulling it out of the bag.

"Cute," Grissom said, taking it and flipping through the pages.

"Catherine said it was Lindsey's favorite," Sara explained.

"Yeah, it was," Grissom said, nodding at the memory. "I can remember reading it to her when she was a toddler."

Sara smiled. "I'll bet the two of you had so much fun."

He nodded, smiling nostalgically as he put the book down on the coffee table. "So, you got Josie a book?"

"Yes. I also got her," she paused dramatically, grabbing the dog while it was still inside the bag, "her own little Hank!" she declared, pulling it out with a flourish.

"Well, look at him!" Grissom exclaimed, his face lighting up. He took the toy from her, grinning at it. "This is pretty much what Hank looked like when he was a puppy."

"I figured," Sara said with a grin. "She'll love him."

"I'm sure she will," Grissom smiled. "Should we tell her that his name is Hank?"

"Won't that be stifling her creativity? Shouldn't she be allowed to name her own toy?"

"Sara, she can't talk."

"That doesn't mean she doesn't have thoughts. She just can't express them yet."

"Okay," Grissom conceded. "We'll tell her to name it whatever she wants."

Sara grinned. "You know, I can't wait to meet this little girl."

Grissom smiled. "Me, either."

* * *

9:07 pm.

Sara sighed as she looked at the clock for the fourth time in two minutes. She had never been good at waiting.

In precisely two hours and forty-eight minutes, she and Grissom would take off in a plane bound for Boston. He had promised to pick her up at 9:15 so they could drive to the airport together; even though he wasn't late, she was getting impatient. She knew that getting to the airport too early was a waste of time, but she just wanted to leave her house. She was so eager to see Mary; she had a hard time convincing herself that waiting for her flight in the airport rather than in her apartment would _not_ get her to her friend any faster.

Fortunately for Sara, Grissom was either as eager as she was or slightly off on his drive time estimation. Whatever the reason, he arrived at her apartment a full six minutes early.

Sara bounded to the door as he knocked on it, practically slamming it open to admit him.

"Hi!" she exclaimed.

Grissom laughed. "Hi," he replied. He put his hands on her hips and leaned in to kiss her briefly. "Ready to go?" he asked, eyeing the small suitcase standing next to the door.

"I am," she affirmed, reaching down to pick up her purse. "You?"

"I'm ready when you are," he smiled.

"Then, let's go!" Sara exclaimed, pulling up the handle on her wheelie.

"Here, let me," Grissom said, taking the suitcase from her.

"You don't have to –"

"Be a gentleman?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Of course, I do."

Sara merely smiled and closed the door behind them as they left. Once her apartment was securely locked, they made their way to Grissom's car.

"You have everything you need?" Grissom asked as he put her suitcase next to his in the trunk.

"I think so," she replied. "I have Josie's presents; that's the most important thing. Besides, we'll only be gone for the weekend, and they _do_ have stores in Boston. I'm sure I'll be fine."

Grissom grinned. "As long as you're sure."

"I'm sure." She raised an eyebrow. "Do _you_ have everything you need?"

"I think so," he echoed.

"Where's Hank for the weekend?" Sara asked as they climbed into the car.

"He's with the sitter," Grissom replied, pulling out of the parking lot. "My neighbor," he said in answer to the unasked question in her eyes. "She watches him for me when I have to work doubles. He always likes to go to her house, but I swear, this time he _knew_ I'd be gone longer than usual. You should have seen the look in his eyes when I left him."

Sara smiled. "Feeling guilty for leaving your baby all alone?"

"A little," Grissom sighed.

"Well, maybe you can bring him a souvenir," Sara said. "He's going to miss his daddy."

Grissom made a face. "I am _not_ his daddy."

"What are you then?"

"His owner," Grissom replied. He shook his head. "His _daddy_."

Sara giggled. "Oh, come on. All pet owners think of themselves as their pets' parents."

"Not _this_ pet owner," Grissom said. "If you want to know who his daddy is, I'd suggest you check out his papers the next time you're at my house. I do have all the documentation of his lineage."

Sara giggled again. "I swear, Griss, you're way too uptight."

He glanced at her. "And, you're not?"

"Fair point," she conceded. "But, that's why we need to go away. I think we both need a little break."

"Which reminds me," Grissom said slowly, "we're going to have to watch ourselves better at work."

Sara frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Ecklie was a little suspicious of the fact that we're both off this weekend."

The color drained from Sara's face. She suddenly felt cold. "What?"

Grissom nodded. "When I met with him right after Nick's abduction, he asked me about it."

"What did you say?" Sara asked, brushing her hair back from her face with a hand that shook slightly.

"That you had requested the weekend off over a month ago," Grissom said. "That you were going to visit your friend for her baby's baptism. And, that I was going to visit my mother for her eightieth birthday."

"Did he believe it?"

"Yes."

"Even though your mother turned eighty last year?"

Grissom smiled. "It's a good thing that Ecklie doesn't pay attention to the little details, isn't it?

Sara exhaled slowly. "Well, at least there's that. At least you managed to convince him we had separate plans. I didn't think …"

"Neither did I," Grissom replied. "If I had thought about it, I would have scheduled our days a little differently – you know, given you Thursday and me Monday in addition to the weekend. Anything to make it look like we had different plans."

"Well, I guess we can count it as a learning experience."

Grissom gave her a lopsided smile. "With you, my dear, everything is a learning experience."

Sara grinned, flushing slightly. "I feel the same way about you."

Grissom smiled at her, and reached across to take her hand in his.

He held her hand the rest of the way to the airport.

* * *

One thing that had been very easy to agree upon about their trip had been their flight. Both Grissom and Sara thought that taking the red eye would be the easiest thing to do. They were both so accustomed to working the graveyard shift that it wouldn't bother them to fly overnight, and they would arrive so early in the morning that it would give them all of Saturday to spend with Mary, Tom and the baby.

Sara, in all her years of cross-country travel, had never taken the red eye. She was amazed by how many people boarded the plane with them.

"You'd think only lunatics like us would want to fly all night," she commented as Grissom stowed her suitcase in the overhead compartment for her.

"Well, it's a convenient flight if you want to have your Saturday for something other than travel," he said, next lifting his own suitcase into the bin. "I'm sure most of them plan to sleep on the plane."

Sara shook her head. "I guess I can try, but I don't know if my internal clock will let me sleep at night."

Grissom laughed. "I'm sure you'll manage. Don't you want to be wide awake when we meet up with Mary?"

"I will be no matter if I sleep now or not." She grinned. "I can't believe how long it's been since I've seen her. I can't wait to get there."

Grissom glanced at his watch as they settled down in their seats. "Well, you'll have to do your best. You're in for a long wait, my dear."

Sara smiled. "I'll manage somehow."

* * *

Sara did fall asleep during their flight, her head pillowed against Grissom's shoulder. He, too, managed to nap for a bit, but awoke before she did. Deciding to let her sleep as long as possible, he didn't rouse her until they began their final descent.

"We're landing," he whispered, shaking her arm a bit.

"We're in Boston?" Sara asked, rubbing her hands over her eyes as she sat up.

"Yes."

Her face lit up, and she turned to look out the window. After watching the familiar landscape for a moment, she turned to Grissom with a beaming smile. He smiled back.

"Just a few more minutes," he said.

She nodded, and pressed her face against the window again. Grissom smiled at her, and turned back to the book he had been reading.

Ten minutes later, they were on the ground. Ten minutes after that, they had docked at their gate. Sara jumped up as soon as the plane stopped moving, standing with her head awkwardly bent to avoid banging it on the low ceiling under the overhead compartment. Grissom looked at her with an amused smile.

"You know, we're going to be here awhile," he said. "We're in the middle of the plane."

"I don't care," Sara declared. She smiled at him. "In my head, I know you're right, and that it's smarter to sit and wait. But, I can't convince myself that it's a good idea."

Grissom smiled and shook his head. "Okay."

She scrunched up her nose at him. "Oh, leave me alone. You'd be excited if we were going to see _your_ college roommate."

He smiled sadly. "You've seen him more recently than I have."

Sara shook her head. "That's just sad. We're going to have to go to San Francisco next. That way you can see Carl. And, I'll get to show you around my hometown."

"Sounds like fun." He smiled mischievously. "We'll just have to make sure we schedule our days off in such a way that Ecklie can't get suspicious."

Sara made a face. "Way to ruin my weekend, Griss. You just _had_ to bring up Ecklie again, didn't you?"

He laughed, standing up as the people in the row in front of theirs began to leave their seats. "Sorry."

Apparently, he was forgiven; Sara was too distracted by the fact that they were finally deplaning to worry about Ecklie anymore. They wheeled their suitcases behind them as they made their way off the plane and into the airport.

"Where are we meeting Mary?" Grissom asked.

"Baggage claim."

Grissom glanced at the suitcases they both carried.

"I know," Sara said. "I told her we weren't checking luggage, but she still thought it would be the easiest place to meet."

"Okay," Grissom said. "Lead on."

Sara smiled and took off in the direction of baggage claim. They finally reached the crowded area; Sara craned her neck to search for her friend.

She was still looking for her when a shriek went up from her left.

"There she is!"

Sara spun around in time to see Mary running toward her. She dropped her grip on the handle of her suitcase and opened her arms to catch her friend in a tight hug.

"Oh, I've missed you!" Mary exclaimed, rocking back and forth as she hugged Sara.

"I know," Sara sighed. "I've missed you, too."

Mary pulled back to look at her. "Don't you _ever_ go so long without visiting me again."

Sara laughed. "Planes fly both ways. You could have come to Vegas."

"We're both at fault." Mary laughed and hugged her again. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me, too."

Mary finally released her, opening the door for Tom to hug her. Sara laughed as he crushed her into his arms.

"Hey, Sara," he said.

"Hi, Tom," she laughed. "Miss me?"

He pulled back and grinned at her. "You know it."

Sara smiled and reached back to grab Grissom's hand, pulling him closer. "Tom, this is Gil Grissom," she said. "Griss, Tom Evans. Mary, you remember …?"

"Of course I do," Mary said, giving Grissom a smile.

"It's great to finally meet you," Tom said, shaking Grissom's hand.

"You, too," Grissom replied.

"We have someone else for you to meet," Mary said, turning to the stroller beside her. She spent a moment undoing clasps, then lifted the baby into her arms. "This is Josie. Josie, this is Auntie Sara."

Sara gasped with delight at the sight of the baby. While she had never been the world's biggest fan of children in general, she was certain that Mary's baby was the cutest little girl she had ever seen.

Mary smiled at her response, and offered Josie to her. "Here, hold her for a minute. Get acquainted."

Suddenly incredibly nervous, Sara somewhat awkwardly took the baby into her arms. "Hey, Josie," she said quietly. "How are you?"

Josie looked up at her with big, blue eyes, studying her face. Sara smiled at her.

"You are a sweetheart, aren't you?" she asked.

Tom laughed. "You obviously haven't seen her at three in the morning."

Sara rolled her eyes at him and looked back at the baby. "Your daddy is so mean," she said. "I can't wait till you're old enough to tell him where he can shove his attitude."

Mary laughed at that. "She already does."

Sara grinned at Mary, then looked over at Grissom. He was staring at her as though transfixed, his eyes very tender as he watched her with the baby. Realizing that she was looking at him, he shook his head slightly and smiled at her.

"She's a very pretty baby," he said.

Mary grinned. "Thanks."

"We'll keep her," Tom added.

Sara smiled and gave the baby back to Mary.

"You can hang on to her if you want," Mary said.

Sara shook her head. "I did well for a few minutes, but I'm afraid I'll drop her if I hold her much longer."

"Eh, it'd be okay," Tom said dismissively. "They bounce."

Sara and Mary both looked at him with wide eyes. He laughed.

"I dropped my little brother when he was a baby," he explained. "He's fine."

"I always knew there was something odd about him," Mary mused as she strapped Josie back into her stroller.

Sara laughed. "That does take the whole 'you must have been dropped on your head as an infant' joke to a whole new level."

"All right, all right, enough," Tom said. "Let's get out of this airport."

"Where are we headed?" Sara asked.

"Well, it's too early for you to check in to your hotel," Mary said. "We thought we'd go out for breakfast, and maybe after that you'd like to see Tom's lab …?"

"That would be great," Sara said enthusiastically. She turned to Grissom. "Tom is doing research at Boston University."

"Really?" Grissom asked, his interest piqued. "What are you researching?"

He and Tom led the way out of the airport, deep in conversation about Tom's research in condensed matter experimental physics. Mary shook her head as she pushed the stroller behind them.

"What was I thinking?" she moaned in mock despair. "I'm spending my weekend with _three_ scientists!"

Sara laughed. "And you thought living with one at a time was bad."

Mary laughed with her and grabbed her arm. "Oh, Sara, I'm so happy you're here. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too," Sara sighed. "I just wish we didn't live on opposite sides of the country."

"Yeah, me, too," Mary said. "Especially now … I just really wish that Josie could grow up knowing you."

"She will," Sara replied. "I'll be her favorite auntie if for no other reason than the sheer number of presents I'll send her."

Mary giggled. "You're going to spoil her."

"I feel like I won't be the only one."

Mary shook her head. "If you could see how many frilly dresses she has from her grandmothers … well, you will. After we play at BU for awhile, you're coming back to see the house. You're going to love it."

"I know I will," Sara replied. "I still can't believe you own a house!"

"Well, it had to happen eventually," Mary said. "When Tom was offered the research opportunity here, we decided that we'd make Boston our home. It just seemed silly to keep renting."

Sara sighed. "You know, sometimes I'm so jealous of you."

Mary laughed. "Don't be. Tom wasn't kidding about the three AM thing."

Sara laughed with her as they made their way to the car rental booth where she and Grissom would pick up the compact car they would be driving for the next few days. She couldn't believe how happy she was to be with Mary again. She hadn't realized how much she had missed her.

* * *

After spending far longer at the university than Mary had anticipated – Grissom and Sara were completely captivated by Tom's "toys," and he was very eager to show them off – they went out for lunch. Mary and Sara insisted that they go to a diner near Harvard – it had been one of their favorite places to eat as undergrads.

They had a lunch fit to clog arteries, then drove back to Mary and Tom's new house. They took them on a tour, ending in the living room.

"Mar, this is beautiful," Sara said sincerely as they sat down. "I love it."

Mary grinned. "I knew you would."

Sara looked at Josie, who had been riding in her father's arms for the tour. "I brought her something," she said. "Can I give it to her now?"

"Sure," Mary said, raising her eyebrows.

Sara grinned, and went to retrieve the packages she had left by the door. She gave them to Mary.

"These are for you, Josie," she said. "We'll let Mommy open them, though, since I don't think you're quite there yet."

Tom laughed. "Not by a long shot."

"Be nice to her," Mary said, opening the first package. "Oh! Josie, look! It's _Pat the Bunny_!"

Josie looked thoroughly unimpressed as Mary held the book up for her to see. Tom laughed.

"I think she likes it."

Mary rolled her eyes and started to pull the wrapping off the second package. She gave a squeal of delight as the paper fell away and the stuffed dog was revealed.

"Look at this!" she exclaimed. "Aunt Sara got you a puppy, Josie!"

Tom laughed. "I'm just glad it's of the _plush_ variety."

"What? You don't want a dog?" Sara asked innocently.

"No, thank you," Tom smiled.

"This is just darling, Sara," Mary said, rubbing the dog's soft fur against Josie's cheek, making her smile.

"It looks just like Grissom's dog," Sara said. "That's why I picked it."

"Really?" Mary said, her eyes swinging to Grissom. "You have a dog?"

Grissom nodded. "Hank," he said. "I've had him for about three years. He did look just like that as a puppy."

"But, don't feel compelled to name the toy Hank," Sara said quickly. "Josie should be allowed to name her own toys."

Tom laughed. "We'll let you know when she bestows a name upon him."

Sara shook her head. "Your sarcasm in this matter is matched only by Grissom's."

Tom looked at Grissom and grinned. "I knew I liked you."

Grissom gave him a lopsided smile. "What can I say? Sara has some unrealistic dreams."

Sara made a face at him. "Don't be mean."

"Never," he said, giving her a warm smile.

Sara stared into his eyes for a moment, then cleared her throat. "So, not to be rude, but would you mind if we called it a day? I'm nearly dead on my feet."

"Oh, Sara, I'm so sorry!" Mary exclaimed. "I didn't even think about the fact that you were flying all night. You must be exhausted."

"No, it's not that," Sara said. "We're used to being up all night. But, we're hitting what would be the end of a double, and that's when my energy starts to wane."

"Go, go," Mary said. "We'll have brunch tomorrow before the baptism."

Sara nodded. "Where?"

"Come over here," Mary said. "There's a restaurant not far away that has the best brunch I've ever eaten."

"Sounds great."

"Good."

Sara leaned down to kiss the top of Josie's head. "Bye, sweetheart. We'll see you tomorrow morning."

After a round of hugs, "good byes," and "pleased to meet yous," Grissom and Sara took their leave, promising to return at eleven the next morning. Sara grinned at him as they climbed into the car.

"What do you think?" she asked as she backed out of Mary's driveway. As the one who had actually lived in the Boston area, Sara had been declared the driver for the weekend.

"They're nice," Grissom said with a smile. "Tom's research is fascinating, isn't it?"

"Yes," Sara agreed. She giggled. "Mary's a little bit nervous about spending her whole weekend with a bunch of science geeks."

Grissom laughed. "She held her own pretty well."

"Always," Sara said. "Josie is a sweetie, isn't she?"

"She's darling," Grissom agreed. He cleared his throat. "You were wonderful with her," he said quietly.

Sara turned slightly to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"You always say that you're not good with kids," he said. "And, I know you're great with Lindsey, but I've never seen you with other children. Watching you with that baby …"

"Yes?"

His face turned bright red. "It just made me think … you _are_ good with kids. You'll be a great mother someday."

Sara smiled and put her hand down on his leg. "You'll be a great father, too."

"Me?" he asked, putting his hand over hers and squeezing it. "I'm too old to be a father."

"It's never too late," Sara said softly.

They fell into a comfortable silence, busy with their own individual thoughts.

They finally reached the hotel. After checking in and making the way to their room, sleep was the only thing on their minds. They changed their clothes and brushed their teeth, then fell into bed. Sara snuggled close to Grissom as she hovered at the edge of sleep.

"Thank you for coming with me," she whispered. "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad I'm here, too."

No more words were exchanged as they both fell into a deep, welcome sleep.

* * *

When Sara awoke the next morning, it was still dark out. Frowning slightly, she twisted her head to look at the bedside clock. It was three in the morning.

"Hey," came a quiet voice beside her.

"Hi," Sara grinned as she turned to see Grissom watching her. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a few minutes," he said.

Sara smiled again and stretched her arms over her head. "I can't believe it's already Sunday morning," she said.

"I'm not sure most people would be willing to call this 'Sunday morning,'" Grissom replied.

She giggled. "I'll bet Josie would call it Sunday morning. I'm sure she has Mary and Tom up at this point."

Grissom chuckled, pulling Sara closer to him. "Do you want to go back to sleep?"

She shook her head. "I don't think I could."

"Good," he murmured, his lips finding her neck. "I sort of want you awake."

Sara slid away from him, sitting up. "Wait. Hold that thought."

"Huh?"

She smiled as she climbed out of bed. "I really, really want to kiss you. But, I'm not doing that until I've brushed my teeth. I'll be right back."

Laughing, Grissom fell back on the mattress.

"What?" she called from the bathroom. "You don't want to brush your teeth before you kiss me?"

He laughed again. "I did that before you woke up. I was just laughing because, well … great minds think alike."

He was still smiling when Sara emerged from the bathroom. She grinned at him as she climbed back onto the bed, leaning forward to hover over him.

"Now," she murmured, "where were we?"

With a grin, she leaned down to kiss him. He smiled against her lips and kissed back, reaching up to thread his fingers through her hair. Their kiss quickly turned from playful to passionate as tongues dueled and hands slid under sleepwear. Sara gasped as Grissom flipped them over so that she was lying on her back with him on top of her.

"Sara …" he murmured, pulling her tank top over her head.

"_Please_, Gil," she whispered.

The way that she said his name, the way that he looked at her … they both knew in an instant that this make out session would not end the same way their others had. He looked deeply into her eyes.

"You're absolutely sure?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, reaching up to run her hand along his cheek.

"You're not going to regret this?"

"Not a chance." She looked into his eyes, a flicker of fear crossing hers. "Will you?"

"No," he said, smiling at her.

"Good," she said, pressing her hips up to meet his. "I don't want to wait anymore."

Grinning, he dipped his head to kiss her again.

This first time coming together, this consummation of their relationship, was more than Sara had ever dreamed. It was slightly awkward, slightly fumbling, and completely perfect. When it was over, they lay tangled up together, her running her fingers over his chest, him kissing the top of her head.

"I've never …" Sara began.

"Never what?" Grissom asked, kissing her again.

"I've never done anything like that before."

He frowned. "Um …"

"No, that's not what I meant," Sara said quickly. "I just … I don't know how to say it. The emotion … It's like … I finally get what it's all about."

He hugged her closer. "It's about connecting," he said. "It's about giving your entire being to another person."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "I guess I've never been able to do that before. Does any of this make sense?"

"Yes," he said. "I know exactly how you feel."

She twisted to look up at him. "You do?"

He nodded. "I feel the same way."

Sara grinned and slid up to kiss him. He responded in kind, tenderly cradling her face between his hands.

"There's something about you, Sara," he said quietly. "You've gotten to me like no woman ever has before."

"Good," she said, kissing him again. "You got to me the first time we talked after your lecture. It's just taken us awhile to get to this point. But, I can promise you that now that we've made it here, I'll never give you up."

He smiled. "I'm not going to give you up, either."


	33. Togetherness

A/N: One last "vacation" chapter for your enjoyment. Our geeks will be back home in Las Vegas for the next chapter. Enjoy their break while it lasts!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I still don't own CSI or _Pat the Bunny_.

* * *

_Togetherness_

Sara would have loved nothing more than to lie in bed with Grissom all day long, hovering in the land between sleep and wakefulness, feeling his hands gently caressing her skin. But, it was not to be. They had a baptism to attend.

Sara had to admit that she was more than a little nervous about serving as a godmother and about attending a Roman Catholic baptism for the first time in her life. Her nerves made themselves known as she ran between the bedroom and the bathroom of their hotel room, trying to make herself look as good as possible.

"You need to calm down," Grissom said. "You're going to make yourself either sick or insane."

Sara stopped mid-stride and looked at him in disbelief. He was already dressed in the navy blue suit she loved; even his tie was knotted at his throat. He was sitting serenely in an armchair, flipping through the newspaper that the hotel staff had left at their door.

"How can you be so calm?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't see any need to be stressed."

Sara gave an exclamation of disgust and returned to the bathroom to play with her hair. "You're too relaxed."

Grissom laughed. "Yesterday, I was too uptight. Which is it?"

Sara popped her head out of the bathroom to make a face at him. "Is this _really_ the moment for that?"

"I suppose not," he said, folding his paper and putting in on the desk. "How can I help you, dear?"

"Clasp my necklace," she said, coming out of the bathroom and holding the chain out in front of her.

He nodded. "Turn around."

Sara did as he asked, presenting her back to him. She swept her hair up, exposing her neck. Grissom clasped the necklace easily, then kissed the exposed skin.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "Absolutely beautiful."

Sara flushed, feeling tingles shoot through her. She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Have I ever told you how incredible you look in that suit?" she murmured, leaning up to kiss him.

He grinned against her lips and put his arms around her waist to pull her closer. "Oh, really?"

"Mm-hm," she hummed, kissing him again. "But," she continued in a whisper, "you look even better _out_ of it."

Grissom groaned as she kissed along his jaw line. "Sara, please …"

"Sara, please, what?" she teased.

"Sara, please, stop," he said, making no move to step away from her.

"Why would you want that?"

"Because, we have to go to Josie's baptism," he said. "We need to leave, or we'll be late for brunch."

Sara sighed and reluctantly backed away from him. "Are you sure we can't just stay here?"

Grissom chuckled. "I'm pretty sure."

"Okay," she sighed. She straightened his tie. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are."

She smiled. "Let me just check my hair."

Once Sara had patted her hair into place and put on more lipstick, they left their hotel room. She was quiet as they drove the short distance to Mary's house.

"Are you okay?" Grissom asked.

She nodded. "I guess."

"What's wrong?"

"It's just … I've never been to a Catholic baptism before. What am I supposed to do?"

"Not much," he answered honestly. "You pretty much just stand there. Josie is the one who has to do all the hard work."

Sara smiled. "I can imagine it would be challenging to have all the demons expelled from your body."

"Actually, Catholics believe that baptism absolves a baby of original sin," Grissom said. He smiled. "No demons involved."

"Well, that's almost a let down," Sara joked.

"Some godmother you are. Do you want that sweet little baby to be plagued by demons and evil spirits?"

"I'm scared to be her godmother, Gil," Sara admitted in a soft voice. "I've never done anything like this … I've never had _responsibility_ like this …"

"Hey," Grissom said, reaching across to take the hand that was resting on her leg, "you're going to be a great godmother. Don't you remember what I said yesterday? If you'll be a great mother, this will be a piece of cake."

Sara gave him a small smile. "Oh, I hope so. I really, really hope so."

They arrived at Mary and Tom's house, which was a flurry of activity. Mary was rushing around, making sure that she had everything packed to take to the church after brunch. Tom had been given the task of watching Josie; he quickly passed her off to Sara after welcoming her into the house.

"Mary has been after me to take care of the baby and help her all at once," he said. "Until I can clone myself, I can't do both. Will you please entertain her so I can go help Mary?"

"I guess," Sara said, adjusting the baby in her arms.

"Thanks, Sara. You're the best."

Sara smiled and shook her head. She looked at the baby in her arms, and carried her into the living room.

"Well, Miss Josie, how are you?" she asked, sitting down on the couch and arranging the baby in her lap. "Do you know that after today, I'll officially be your godmother?"

The baby looked up at her and blinked serenely.

"I have to confess that I've never been a godmother before," Sara continued in a quiet voice. "I'm not really sure what to do. But, you've never been a goddaughter before, either. So, I guess we can learn together, right?"

Josie still remained quiet, staring up at Sara's face with her big, blue eyes. Sara looked down at her, and found herself mesmerized by the little girl's eyes. For the first time, she let herself think of what it would be like to be a mother – to be the mother of Grissom's child. Their daughter would have big, blue eyes, too. She would look up at Sara with Grissom's eyes, showing the same faith and trust that Josie was showing her. Suddenly feeling tears coming desperately close to the surface, Sara cleared her throat and looked away from the baby.

Her eyes fell on _Pat the Bunny_, which was lying on the end table next to the couch. She grinned and picked it up.

"Should we read a story, Josie?" she asked, opening the book.

Grissom stood in the doorway and watched as Sara read to the baby. He grinned, knowing how much she would hate it if the guys at work ever heard that Sara had spent her weekend away reading _Pat the Bunny_ to her goddaughter, using a variety of voices to keep her engaged in the story. Or, at least, as engaged in the story as a two-month-old baby could be.

Sara finished the story and put it aside. As she turned to put the book on the table, she noticed Grissom hovering in the doorway. She smiled, her face flushing slightly.

"Hey," she said. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," he smiled, stepping fully into the room. He sat down next to her on the couch and smiled at the baby in her lap. "You two seem to be getting along very well."

"Well, she's a good listener," Sara smiled.

Grissom smiled. He reached out to the baby, running one of his fingers over her hand. He slid it under her palm, letting her grab onto it. He glanced up at Sara.

"Look how long her fingers are."

"She'll be a piano player."

"What?" he asked, frowning slightly, yet smiling.

Sara grinned. "When I was a little girl, my grandmother always used to say that I'd be a great piano player because I have long fingers."

"I didn't know you played the piano."

"I don't. I never have. It's just something that my grandmother said about people with long fingers."

Grissom chuckled. "Well, I'd say that your long fingers are great for collecting evidence and running experiments …" He lowered his voice and continued, "… among other things."

"Grissom!" Sara hissed. "Josie is _right_ _here_."

Grissom laughed. "She can't understand me. Besides, I could mean that you're a good pianist."

Sara rolled her eyes.

"Hi!" Mary said as she came into the room. "I'm sorry that Tom dumped her on you like that."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Sara said as she and Grissom stood up. "We've been getting acquainted."

Mary smiled and took Josie from Sara. "Are you having fun with Auntie Sara?" she asked, kissing the baby's cheek. She turned back to the adults. "Are you ready to go?"

"We're ready when you are."

* * *

Sara immediately fell in love with the restaurant Mary had chosen for brunch. It was rather upscale, yet had a simplicity that very few of the restaurants in Vegas managed to achieve. She noticed Grissom looking around appreciatively as they sat down.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think we're a long way from home," he replied with a smile.

Sara laughed. "Are you saying that it needs a little more gaudiness?"

"No," he smiled. "It's perfect the way it is."

After brunch, they drove to the church. As soon as they walked inside, Mary took the baby's bag from Tom and gave it to Sara.

"Come on, Godmother. We need to get our little girl ready for her big moment."

Smiling, Sara followed Mary to the church bathroom. Mary put the baby, who was still securely strapped into her carrier, onto the counter, and set the bag on the floor.

"Can you get her out of there?" Mary asked as she opened the bag. "I'll find her gown."

"I can try," Sara said, looking at the battery of clasps and buckles that kept Josie safe.

Mary laughed. "You can prove someone to be a murderer, but you can't pick up a baby?"

"I'm not worried about picking her up," Sara replied, beginning to undo the clasps. "I'm worried about getting her unbuckled."

Fortunately, it was easier than it looked; Sara had the baby out of her seat before Mary had found her gown. Sara was tickling the baby, watching her smile, as Mary straightened up.

"Okay," she said, putting a mat down on the baby changer. "Let's strip her."

"Um …"

"Just take off her dress, Sara," Mary laughed. "You can do it."

Sara made a face, and took off the baby's dress. Several layers of clothing later, they had her dressed in her baptismal gown. Sara grinned at her, lifting her off the changing table.

"Well, don't you look like a little princess?" she cooed.

"You're just beautiful, Josie," Mary agreed, running her hand over the baby's head.

Josie smiled at the praise they lavished on her, kicking her little legs.

"Come on," Mary said. "They'll wonder where we've gone."

Grissom and Tom were right where they had left them, standing outside the entrance to the sanctuary. They had been joined by Tom's brother, John, who was serving as Josie's godfather. Tom was the first to see them coming.

"There are my girls!" he exclaimed.

"Hey, princess!" John exclaimed, coming forward to take the baby from Sara. "How's Uncle John's favorite niece?"

Sara looked at Mary with raised eyebrows. She grinned and nodded.

"Yes. She's his _only_ niece."

Sara laughed, but John shook his head.

"She'll always be my favorite," he declared. "Hi, Sara. It's good to see you again."

"You, too," Sara smiled.

"I just met your boyfriend," he continued. "He's great, Sara, just great."

Sara looked at Mary with a slightly confused smile. Then, before Mary had time to explain, a memory from the day she had met John rushed to the surface.

"Oh, that's right," she said with dawning understanding. "You're studying forensics, aren't you?"

"Well, I'm done with school," he said. "I'm looking for a job now."

Sara grinned. "Are you trying to talk Griss into letting you join our team?"

"Nah," he smiled. "I don't want to move all the way to Vegas. But, he's been giving me some good pointers."

Sara smiled, looking up to see Grissom watching her. "Yeah, he's definitely good at giving advice."

"Well, hello."

They all turned to see a priest walking toward them. He was smiling, clearly pleased to see them in his church.

"Hello, Miss Josie," he said, smiling at the baby. "Are you ready to be baptized?"

Josie looked up at him, and John grinned, adjusting her in his arms.

"Hi, Father," Mary said. "This is my brother-in-law, John, and my friend, Sara. They're going to be Josie's godparents."

"It's wonderful to meet you both," he smiled at them. "I'm Father Sean." He looked back at Mary. "The grandparents and other family members are already seated. Shall we begin?"

Mary looked around at the group. "Are the rest of you ready?"

Tom grinned. "Let's go."

Taking that as group approval, Father Sean led them into the church. Grissom smiled at Sara as they walked toward the sanctuary.

"Still nervous?" he whispered.

"Terrified," she whispered back.

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand as they crossed the threshold into the sanctuary. "You'll do great."

Sara, still holding his hand, moved to follow Mary down the aisle, but was pulled back. She turned to look at Grissom, who, to her surprise, had paused to dip his fingertips into the holy water at the doorway. He crossed himself before stepping forward. Sara frowned slightly, looking at him quizzically. He shrugged.

"Habit."

Sara shook her head slightly as they moved down the aisle to join their friends.

The ceremony was far shorter than Sara had imagined it would be. She had an almost inactive role; Grissom was right in saying that Josie had the hardest job. She burst into tears as the holy water touched her head. Mary, who was holding her, did her best to comfort her as the ceremony continued.

While the baptism itself was over in less than twenty minutes, they were in the church for an hour. Sara had not considered that this would be a photo-op, but the families, and, to her great surprise, Grissom, all pulled out cameras and started snapping pictures. There were pictures of the baby with her parents, with her mother, with her father, with her godparents, with Sara, with John, with her parents and godparents, with her grandparents, her aunts and uncles … Sara was completely exhausted by the end of it. She wondered how Josie was still awake.

"Well, she's been blinded by the flashes," Grissom said when Sara made that comment to him. "She's more worried about the fact that she can't see than about the fact that she's tired."

Sara grinned and took the camera from her. "Let me see all the ways you blinded her."

She flipped through the digital pictures, smiling at the one of her holding the baby. Josie was actually looking at the camera while Sara smiled.

"This one is really cute."

"Yeah, I thought so. I'll send it to you so you can show it to Catherine. You know she'll want to see pictures of the baby."

"Yeah, she will." Sara suddenly stood up, pulling Grissom to his feet.

"Where are we going?"

"We're getting a picture of us," Sara said. "Hey, John!"

John, who was not having his picture taken at the moment, looked up at her. She beckoned him over.

"What can I do for you?"

"Can you take a picture of us?"

"Sure," he grinned, taking the camera from her.

"Why are we doing this?" Grissom asked as they stood together.

"Because we don't have any pictures of us together that don't involved crime scenes," Sara explained as she looped her arm around his waist.

"Ready?" John asked.

Grissom put his arm around Sara's waist. She smiled up at him and he looked down at her, returning her smile. They both looked toward John, their smiles still firmly in place.

"Aw, that's cute, guys," John said, looking at the picture. "Can we do one more? Sara, put your head on his shoulder."

Sara nodded, laying her head on Grissom's shoulder. They both smiled again, and John grinned at them as he snapped the picture.

"That's great. Come see."

They both stepped forward, taking the camera from him. While the first picture certainly was nice, the second one was even better. Sara smiled at John.

"Thank you! You're a great photographer."

He grinned. "I worked as a photographer's lackey during college. I'm no expert, but I did pick up some skills."

"Well, I think these are great," Sara replied. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," John smiled. "My work here is done."

"Hey," Mary said, blinking repeatedly as she joined them. "Are you guys about ready? We're going to head back to our place for Josie's party."

"Yeah!" John said enthusiastically. "Let's go!"

* * *

"You're quiet," Grissom said as they drove behind Mary and Tom back to their house.

Sara sighed. "Is it wrong of me to say that I just don't want to go to this party?"

Grissom grinned. "I can't say that I'm surprised."

"It's not that I don't love Mary or that I don't want to spend time with her and her family. I mean, I have no idea when I'll get to see them again. It's just … I don't want to have to spend all that time with their relatives."

"I know," Grissom said. "Just … think of Mary, and remember why you're doing this. Besides, we can't stay all that late. We do have to catch a flight back home tonight."

"I know," Sara said. "I just wish it could just be the five of us this afternoon, that's all."

She watched as Tom pulled into the driveway. Rather than parking behind him, she parallel parked on the street.

"I'm sure we'll need to leave before this is over," she explained. "We don't want to have to make someone let us out."

"Good point," Grissom agreed as they got out of the car.

Within moments, the party was in full swing as relatives began arriving. Sara and Grissom kept to themselves while Mary and Tom were busy welcoming their guests. Sara smiled at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Thank you for coming with me," she said. "I know I've been saying that all weekend, but, really, Gil, I don't know what I'd do without you here."

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I'm glad I'm here, too."

Mary appeared at Sara's side, pulling her hand. "I need you."

Sara gave Grissom an apologetic smile. She barely had time to feel bad for abandoning him when Tom and John descended upon him. Sara could hear the scientific terms of their conversation as she followed Mary into the empty kitchen.

"Well?" Mary asked.

"Well, what?" Sara frowned.

Mary sighed. "You've been holding out on me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sara said, genuinely confused.

"Sara!" Mary exclaimed. "Okay, so, I've known that you had a thing for Grissom for years. I knew that you were dating. But, darling, you never told me that you're … well … so totally _involved_."

Sara's eyes widened. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Sara …"

Sara bit her lip, then her face broke into a beaming smile. "Okay, Mary, you're right. I have to tell you." She lowered her voice, even though they were quite alone. "Last night, we made love for the first time."

Mary squealed and pulled her into an embrace. "I knew it! I could tell just by looking at you!"

"I hate how well you know me," Sara said, wrinkling her nose at her.

Mary grinned. "Anything else you'd like to confess?"

Sara laughed, then smiled. "I don't know, Mar. With him … everything's so different. I've never …" Her breath caught. "Mary, I really think I'm falling in love with him. I just … I don't know if he'll ever be able to love me the same way."

"Sara, listen to me," Mary said, grabbing her hands. "He will. He already does. I can see it in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds your hand. He loves you, Sara. I know it."

Sara sighed. "The problem is, Mar, that I don't think that _he_ knows it."

"Well," Mary said with a mischievous smile, "you'll just have to make him realize it."

The kitchen door swung open, and Tom walked into the room. He smiled at the sight of them.

"There you are! I wondered where you two had gone."

Sara grinned at him. "Well, you, Grissom and John were talking science. I had to save Mary from certain boredom."

"More like certain confusion," Tom teased.

Mary rolled her eyes. "I hate you both. I just want you to know that."

Tom grinned and kissed her cheek. "Sara, I have to tell you, Grissom is great."

Sara gave him a teasing smile. "I'm starting to think that you and John are falling for him. I do need to take him back to Vegas, you know."

"You know what I mean," Tom laughed. "I'm trying to be serious here!"

"I'm sorry," Sara said. "Please, continue."

He smiled. "When Mary told me that you were dating an older guy, I'll admit, I was a little nervous. You just didn't seem the type to do something like that, and I couldn't see you with an 'old man.' But, now that I've met him and seen the two of you together … well, he's not an old man, and I'd say that you're perfect for each other."

Sara's face lit up, knowing how sincere both her friends were in their praise of her boyfriend. She looked through the still-open door to see Grissom talking to John. She smiled softly.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I'd say that we're perfect for each other, too."


	34. Back in the Game

A/N: How's that for some quick updating? We'll call it your early Valentine's Day present. I love this chapter, and I hope that you will, too.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Back in the Game_

"Home, sweet home."

Grissom smiled at Sara as they crossed the McCarran parking lot to his car. "Did you miss it?"

"When did I have time? We were only gone for something like three hours."

"Actually, I believe it was forty-nine."

Sara made a face at him. "You know what I mean."

"I do know," he agreed as they reached the car. "It was a short trip. It was nice, though, wasn't it?"

"I loved it," Sara said, watching as he opened the trunk. While he was standing still, she came up from behind him and wrapped her arms around him. "There was a lot to love, wasn't there?"

He smiled, turning around in her embrace so he could hug her back. "Yes. There was."

She leaned up to kiss him, smiling against his lips. "Stay with me tonight."

"Okay," he agreed a bit breathlessly.

Sara smiled and kissed him again. "What are we waiting for? Let's go to my place!"

Laughing, Grissom picked up her suitcase to put in the trunk. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me that," Sara said, making a face. "It makes me feel old."

Grissom rolled his eyes as he put his suitcase into the trunk with hers. "You are not old, my dear. You just have an old boyfriend."

"I do not," Sara said as she climbed into the car. "I have a sexy boyfriend."

Grissom's face was bright red as he sat down behind the wheel. "Do you know what I loved most about this weekend?" he asked rather than responding to her comment.

Sara gave him a naughty smile. "I _wonder_ …"

"Well, aside from that," Grissom grinned.

"What?" Sara asked, her interest piqued.

"I loved being able to hold your hand while we were out. I loved being able to take a picture with my arm around you. I loved that everyone knew that you were my girlfriend."

Sara sighed. "I loved not hiding, too. It was … a relief."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed, backing out of the parking space. "Look, I know we weren't being very serious when we talked about it on the plane, but I think it would be good for us to go to San Francisco – or, anywhere, really. I think that we need to go away together as much as we can without drawing suspicion. I think it'll be good for us."

"And our relationship," Sara added. "Well, I know that we can't go anytime soon. Catherine was shocked enough that I went away for this weekend. I can't imagine what she'd say if I were gone for a weekend next month, too."

"Yeah, I'm in the same boat." He smiled at her. "It's a shame we've both shown such dedication to our jobs in the past."

Sara giggled. "Yeah. What was up with that?"

Grissom grinned. "We'll make it work, Sara."

She gave him a smile full of promise. "I know we will."

There was something about the way she smiled at him … Grissom pressed his foot harder against the accelerator. He suddenly couldn't get to Sara's apartment fast enough.

Twenty minutes later, they were stumbling through Sara's front door, laughing as they tried to kiss each other while they crossed the threshold. Shoes were kicked off immediately, skidding to a stop at various places on the floor. The rest of their clothing followed as they tripped into the bedroom and fell into bed together.

Sara had never been so happy to be home in her life.

* * *

When Grissom awoke the next day, he was alone in Sara's bed. He was dimly surprised; he had never managed to out-sleep her before. He could hardly believe that he had slept so well in a bed that wasn't his.

He climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to start the dressing process. Finally, he left her room, clad in his boxers and t-shirt, intent upon finding Sara. He didn't have to question her whereabouts for long; she was certainly loud enough to alert him to her location.

"_Yes_! Yes, yes, _yes_! _Finally_!"

Grissom walked into the living room to find Sara jumping up and down in front of the television, cheering loudly. He looked at her in surprise.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"You won't believe what just happened!" she exclaimed.

"Try me."

"The Pens drafted Sidney Crosby!"

"Um …" Grissom looked at her in complete confusion. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The Pittsburgh Penguins just drafted Sidney Crosby!" Sara explained. "He's supposed to be the next Lemieux."

Grissom still looked bewildered. Sara sighed.

"I forgot. You don't like hockey."

Wanting to bring the smile back to her face, Grissom sat down on her couch. "Tell me about it."

"What?"

"Tell me why this is so good."

Smiling again, Sara sat down next to him. "The Pittsburgh Penguins have always been my favorite hockey team," she began. "I've cheered for others, but the Pens are always first in my heart. They've had a few losing seasons, but now, with Crosby, I think they might be able to bring themselves out of this hole they've dug."

Grissom nodded. "Why the Pittsburgh Penguins?"

"That's entirely my father's fault. He grew up in Pittsburgh, and he always was a staunch supporter of the Pittsburgh sports teams." She smiled. "They say that city gets into your blood. You can move away, but you never really leave it."

"Have you been there?"

"I went to visit my grandparents and my aunts and uncles a couple times when I was little. The last time I went I was ten." She smiled sadly. "My dad loved to watch the Pens play. Even when they were losing all the time, he still watched. That last time we went to Pittsburgh, he took me to a game. We had so much fun."

Grissom looked at her intently, listening to her talk about a past he had never known existed. She looked back, misreading his expression.

"Not all my memories of him are bad," she said quietly.

"No, that's not what I was thinking," Grissom said, his own voice very low. "I was just thinking that, even though I know you so well, I know so little _about_ you. We need to fix that."

"Yes," Sara said softly, "we do. There's so much I don't know about you, either." She gave him a teasing smile. "I mean, aside from the fact that you don't like hockey."

"Hey," he said in a mock-defensive tone, "I don't see you running to any baseball games."

"Maybe I just don't know enough about the sport."

"Well, maybe I just don't know enough about hockey," Grissom countered.

"Fair enough," Sara said, smiling. "Maybe I'll have to teach you."

He smiled. "I'll be a very good student. I'll do all my homework."

"I'm sure you will," she grinned. She kissed his cheek. "Are you hungry? We should eat before we have to leave for work."

He nodded and followed her into the kitchen. "What did you have in mind for food?"

"I was thinking of something brunchy," Sara said. "I know it's dinnertime, but I just really wanted … I don't know, an omelet."

"Ah," Grissom said, his face lighting up. "Breakfast for dinner."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Perfect."

Sara gave him an amused smile. "You seem awfully excited about omelets."

Grissom opened her refrigerator and took out the eggs. "You've never had one of my omelets."

Sara grinned. "No, I haven't."

"Well, then, my dear, get ready for the experience."

Sara burst into laughter. "Okay, you know what? That's it. You're not allowed to hang out with Hodges anymore."

"I wasn't aware that Hodges and I ever _hung out_."

"Well, he's the only one I know who would say something like that, so you must have picked it up from him."

Grissom smiled. "Well, maybe this is just one more sign that I spend too much time at work."

"Oh, come on," Sara said, pulling out a skillet. "You know you missed the lab while we were away. I'm sure you've been itching to call Catherine to see how things are going."

"Actually, I'd call Sofia," he replied. "She's been running our shift."

Sara bit her lip and passed him a bowl. "Have you talked to Catherine about coming back to grave with us?"

Grissom shook his head. "Ecklie wanted me to wait until after my weekend away."

"Well … we're back."

"I know," Grissom sighed, cracking the first egg into the bowl.

"And?"

"I'll get to it. I promise."

They continued to talk about the lab and bringing their team together again while they worked to make their dinner. As they shifted from "vacation mode" to "work mode," their conversation about sports was nearly forgotten.

_Nearly_ forgotten … but, not totally. Each, unbeknownst to the other, made a silent commitment to learn more about the other's favorite sport. And so, in the days and weeks that followed, Sara spent her time reading up on the difference between a double and a double play, while Grissom learned the meaning of a hat trick and high sticking. The next time sports came up, they would both be ready.

* * *

"Sara! You're back!"

Sara laughed as Greg grinned at her. "Miss me?" she teased.

"I did," he said honestly. "I mean, Sofia's great, but those day shift people that Ecklie sent to help us out? Bo-oring. I needed your sense of humor!"

Sara laughed again. "Well, I missed you, too."

"Did you bring pictures of the baby?"

"Who are you, Catherine?"

"What, I'm not allowed to like babies?"

Sara blinked. "Seriously? You like babies?"

Greg nodded. "I'm the oldest of all my cousins, so I was the older kid stuck playing with babies all my life. It was either learn to love it or learn to hate Christmas at Nana and Papa Olaf's. So, I chose to learn to love it."

"Wow," Sara said, clearly impressed. "I'll have to show them to you tomorrow. I knew that Catherine was off tonight, so I didn't bother to bring them. I didn't think anyone else would care."

"About what?"

"Hi, Warrick," Sara smiled as he came in. "Greg was just asking to see pictures of my little goddaughter."

"You brought pictures?" he asked excitedly.

Sara shook her head, amazed that these two men were so interested in the baby of a woman they had met once. "Tomorrow."

"All right." He opened his locker to hang up his field vest. "Oh, hey, while I have you both here, when is your next common day off?"

"Wednesday?" Sara asked, looking at Greg.

"Wednesday," he affirmed.

"Perfect," Warrick said. "I talked to Nick earlier. His doctor is finally letting him get up and leave the house, so we thought that maybe the four of us could go hit a bar."

"That would be great!" Greg exclaimed. "I'll even play sober sister this time."

"Hey, thanks, Greg," Sara said. She was usually the one who volunteered – or, who was volunteered by her friends – to be the designated driver.

"I owe you from last time," he said. "How about this? Sara and I will get here as swing is ending. Have Nick meet us then, too, and all four of us can ride to our destination in my car. You can leave your cars at the lab. We'll worry about picking them up later."

"Good plan," Sara agreed.

"I'm in," Warrick said. "I'll let Nicky know."

"Great!" Greg exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "We haven't been out together in _ages_!"

* * *

"So, a night out with the boys, huh?"

"A night out with my _brothers_," Sara laughed.

"You'll have fun," Grissom said.

"I know," Sara said. "I'm really excited about this. I can't wait to see how Nicky's doing."

"Sara, you've called him almost every day," Grissom protested. "I'm sure you have a pretty good idea of how he's doing."

"I know," Sara said. "But, I want to know how he's _really_ doing. You know how much a person can hide over the phone."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Hey, Griss, I gotta go. I'm pulling into the parking lot right now, and the guys will be suspicious if they see me on the phone."

"Suspicious?"

"Well, they'll ask me who's on the other end. And, with the way Greg's been after me to tell him about my 'mystery boyfriend' it could make for a _very_ long night."

"Okay," Grissom said. "Have fun, okay? Just … not _too_ much fun."

Sara laughed. "I'll drunk dial you later, dear."

"I'll be waiting for your call."

She laughed again. "Bye, Griss."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone and pulled into a parking space next to Warrick's car. Greg was already there, parked on the other side of Warrick. He was leaning against his car, watching her park.

"Impressed by my skills?" Sara asked as she climbed out of her car.

"Always," he grinned. "Were you on the phone as you drove in?"

"Yes," Sara replied, mentally kicking herself for not hanging up before pulling into the lot. "It's not a crime to drive and talk. We don't live in New York."

"I was just wondering if you were talking to your mystery man."

Well, at least she had gotten that right. "I was talking to Mary, if you must know. I had to check up on my goddaughter."

"Hm," Greg hummed in a way that implied he was not convinced.

Sara was saved from responding as Nick pulled into the space next to hers. He climbed out of his truck and grinned at them.

"Hey, guys."

Sara grinned and ran forward to hug him. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too, darlin'." Nick hugged her tightly. "It's great to be back out with you guys again."

"When are you coming back to work?" Sara asked.

"Two more weeks," Nick said. "Let me tell you, this whole 'don't do anything' thing is starting to get to me. Yesterday, I almost bought something from an infomercial because the 'real people, not actors' managed to convince me it was a good idea."

Greg laughed. "Well, in that case, we'd better get this man a drink! If you're going to lose all rational thought processes, it might as well be for an alcohol-related reason."

"Sounds like a plan," Nick said cheerfully. He looked around. "Where's Warrick? We can't leave without him."

"Right here," Warrick said as he crossed the parking lot to join them. "Sorry, guys. Catherine's pulling a double, and tried to get me to join her. I had a hard time convincing her to let me leave … especially when she found out where I was going."

Sara giggled. "Is she jealous?"

"Very," Warrick grinned. "But, in the end, I told her that it was all for Nick, and she let me go." He grinned at Nick. "Thanks, man. I always knew you were good for something."

"Um … I suppose I should take that as a compliment," Nick grinned.

"Okay, enough chatting," Greg said. "Everyone get in the car. We're off to have some fun!"

* * *

They went, as expected, to their usual bar and found their way to what had become their usual table. Sara bought their first round of drinks, Greg bought their second, and Warrick bought their third. The longer they were there, the mellower they all became. Sara was feeling tipsy for the first time in a long time when Nick made the suggestion that changed it all.

"Hey, hey, let's play Hot or Not!" he exclaimed.

Warrick and Greg enthusiastically agreed and even Sara nodded. While she hated this game when she was sober, after three beers, she found that she was much more willing to allow it.

"Waitress," Warrick said, starting off the game.

"Hot," Greg said.

Nick shook his head. "No. I don't like blonds."

"Since when?" Warrick asked in disbelief.

"Since four months ago," Nick replied. He made a face. "Long story."

"Moving on…" Greg said. "Redhead in the tank top at the bar."

"Hot," Nick and Warrick said in unison.

"Bartender," Nick said.

"Hot," Warrick said.

"Not," Greg said, shaking his head.

Sara sighed. "Can we please play with guys?"

"Um, no," Warrick laughed. "You're on your own."

"No, no, let Sara play," Nick laughed. "Warrick."

Sara gave him an appraising look. "Hot."

Warrick grinned while Nick high-fived him. "Nick," he said, eager to return the favor.

"Hot."

Nick and Warrick cheered again.

"Greg," Nick said.

Sara shook her head. "Sorry. That would be like calling my little brother hot."

"I'm hurt," Greg grinned.

"Sorry," she said again, smiling at him.

Greg looked at Sara, who was taking another drink of her beer. He had been wondering about her mystery man forever; this game could be a way to find out his identity. He knew that it wasn't one of the guys at the table, despite the fact that she had just declared them to be hot. Then, a thought struck him … a memory from months ago … could it be? He had always wondered, and now, while they were playing a game, while she was halfway to drunk, would be the time to ask her …

"Grissom," he said.

Sara rolled her eyes, trying to look annoyed at the mere suggestion, but her face turned bright red. Panic shot through her, killing her buzz. She could only hope that she managed to cover herself and to look as disinterested as she intended – she had never been good at hiding her emotions while drunk.

Nick and Warrick, too busy celebrating their own hotness, didn't notice what was happening between Greg and Sara. Greg kept his eyes on Sara's face until she looked at him again. In that one moment, as their eyes met, Greg knew. He knew, and she knew that he knew, the secret Sara and their boss were keeping. As they held each other's eyes, as blind fear crossed Sara's, Greg vowed to keep their secret. Sara had done too much for him over the years for him to destroy her now. He wanted to tell her, to let her know that she could trust him, but he had to be careful about how he did it.

"You know, guys, attraction is subjective," he said.

"That's very Grissom of you," Warrick nodded.

"I know," Greg said. "Grissom was the one who said it to me first." He looked at Sara again. "He also told me what turns him on."

Pure panic jumped into Sara's eyes. She shook her head quickly, but Greg smiled at her.

"Let me guess," Nick laughed. "A dominatrix?"

The panic in Sara's eyes morphed into anger. She and Grissom had never really discussed their past relationships, so her thoughts on his relationship with Lady Heather were pure assumption. Despite the fact that she knew that the majority of their coworkers were sure that _something_ had happened between Grissom and Lady Heather, she did _not_ need to hear Nick and Warrick discussing it. Fortunately, Greg was quick to save her.

"No."

"Well, it's not strippers," Warrick laughed. "He's never made a move on Catherine."

"Gotta be smart girls," Nick said.

"Definitely," Warrick agreed.

"Will you let me tell you?" Greg finally yelled.

The guys stopped their speculating and looked at him.

"He said it's someone who doesn't judge him."

Sara released the breath she had been holding and gave Greg a beaming smile. He smiled back, knowing that she trusted him to keep her secret safe.

Warrick and Nick were still laughing.

"That's so Grissom," Warrick said.

"It's all of us, isn't it?" Sara asked, finally finding her voice. "No one wants to be judged."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Nick agreed.

"But, only Grissom would list it as his turn-on," Warrick laughed.

Sara shook her head and looked at Greg again. "I'd say it's one of mine, too," she said quietly.

Greg smiled. "I thought it might be," he said, just as quietly.

"You're very observant."

"Well," he smiled, "I learned from the master."

Sara grinned and took another drink of her beer. In that moment, she was sure that she had never loved Greg more.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Griss? Can you talk?"

"Yeah, I can talk. I'm alone at a crime scene. Are you drunk?" he asked, barely concealing his laughter.

"Not anymore."

"Ah, I'm disappointed," Grissom smiled. "I expected a drunken phone call."

"Griss … we have a problem."

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling more than a little fearful as he realized how serious she was.

"Greg knows about us."

"What?" Grissom asked, willing himself to remain calm. "What happened? What did he say?"

"We were … well, we were playing this stupid game, and he sort of led me down a path … look, I didn't actually _say_ anything, but … he knows. I could tell by what he said."

"Sara, are you sure you're not drunk? You're not making much sense."

"Yeah, you sort of had to be there for it to make sense," Sara admitted. "The important thing is that Greg knows that we're dating."

Grissom was silent for so long that Sara thought he had hung up.

"Griss? Are you still there? Gil?"

"I'm here," he said at last. "Did he tell the others?"

"No."

"Well, at least there's that."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "And, to be honest, he had every opportunity to tell them right then. But, he didn't … and, I don't think that he will."

"Good."

"I guess … Gil, I'm scared. If Greg could tell what's going on with us, can everyone else?"

He sighed. "We talked about this before, Sara. We have to be careful at work, that's all."

"I know," she said quietly.

"Look, I'll do my best not to assign us to cases together for awhile. Hopefully, if the others think they know something, they'll change their minds when they don't see us working together. We'll just have to avoid each other for awhile."

"I don't want to avoid you," Sara said in a small voice.

"Honey, this isn't what I want, either, but we have to do what we can to keep this a secret. Otherwise, we're completely screwed in terms of our careers."

"I know."

"Look, we just … we'll have to make sure that we spend lots of time together outside of work, okay?"

Sara grinned, even though he couldn't see it. "I like the sound of that."

He chuckled. "I thought you might."

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Gil. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Hey, it's not your fault. Greg's just a good CSI, that's all."

Sara laughed. "Yeah, he said something similar." She sighed. "I should go. I need to take a shower. I smell like a bar."

Grissom laughed again. "Well, you've succeeded in making me glad that I'm sleeping in my own bed tonight."

"You're such a princess," Sara laughed. "I'll see you at work tomorrow – however briefly."

"See you then," Grissom agreed. "Good night, Sara."

"Good night."

Sara hung up the phone and stared it for a minute. She truly hoped that Grissom was right, and that they could keep their secret. Their careers depended on it.

* * *

Despite Grissom's assurances that they would be fine, the only thing Sara felt when she walked into work the next day was trepidation. If Greg had seen through her and Grissom, who else had? How long had he known the secret they had been so closely guarding?

She walked into the locker room to find Greg standing at his locker. He smiled at her as she entered.

"Hi. How are you feeling?"

She smiled slightly. "Fine. I didn't drink as much as the guys."

"No, I guess not."

"Greg, I …"

He turned to give her his full attention.

"How long have you known?" she asked quietly.

Greg gave her a smile. "Known what?"

"You know what."

He sighed. "I guess, on some level, for awhile."

"How did you …?"

He shrugged. "I guess you could say I followed the evidence."

"Evidence?"

"I've seen you, Sara. I know you far better than you've ever realized."

Her cheeks slowly flushed a brilliant shade of red. Greg smiled and slammed his locker closed.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll never tell. And, for what it's worth, I'm positive that no one else knows."

Sara released the breath that she had been holding. "Thanks, Greg."

"Hey," he said with a gentle smile, "that's what friends are for."


	35. Reorganization

A/N: Well, it's not the most exciting chapter I've ever written, but I needed it to set up the next one. I hope you like it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. The tiniest bit of inspiration comes from episode 601, "Bodies in Motion."

* * *

_Reorganization_

"So, are we cool?" Greg asked, looking at Sara apprehensively.

She nodded and gave him a smile. "Of course. I just want to know how it is that you always seem to know my secrets before everyone else."

Greg grinned. "Hey, what can I say? I have good connections, and I notice things."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Come on, Secret Agent Sanders. We need to get our assignments."

"Right," Greg agreed, following her out of the locker room.

They made their way into the break room, where Grissom and Sofia were waiting. They were talking; Sofia was laughing at something Grissom had said. Sara prepared herself to do battle with the usual pang of jealousy, but … it just wasn't there. She smiled at both Sofia and Grissom as she said hello.

"Hi," Sofia replied, smiling up at them.

"Hello," Grissom said, barely looking at Sara.

Sara sighed. She knew that she and Grissom had made the right decision, and that they needed to avoid all unnecessary contact at work. She just hadn't counted on how difficult it would be.

"Here's what we've got," Grissom said. "Sofia, you and Sara are headed out to look at a multi-vehicle collision on the highway."

"Sounds like fun," Sofia said, taking the assignment slip from him.

"Greg, you're coming with me," Grissom continued. "We have a floater in Lake Mead."

"Fantastic," Greg said sardonically. "I love a good decomp."

Sara giggled, and he flashed her a smile.

"Okay, everyone, let's get moving," Grissom said.

Sofia looked at Sara. "Do you want to drive?"

Sara shrugged. "You can if you'd like."

"That is so unfair!" Greg exclaimed. "You _never_ let me drive!"

Sara grinned at him. "Maybe it's because I trust Sofia to get me to the scene safely."

"Ouch," Greg said. "Just … ouch."

"Hey, look, Greg, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Sofia teased. "Plenty of people are bad drivers."

"Your problems aren't our fault," Sara added.

"I hate you both," Greg said, rolling his eyes. "Griss, all I can say is, thanks for not making me go out with them tonight."

Grissom shook his head. "Okay, girls, leave Greg alone. Go to your crime scene."

"Yes, Dad," Sofia laughed. She looked at Sara. "Do you need to get your kit?"

"Yeah," Sara said. "Can I meet you at the car?"

"Definitely."

Sara made her way to the locker room alone; Greg and Grissom left in the opposite direction. She pulled her kit from her locker, then took out her field vest. She pulled it on, immediately noticing the paper sticking from the pocket. Frowning slightly, she pulled it out and unfolded it.

_I'm sorry we can't work together tonight. Will you come over after shift? _

_- G_

Sara's breath caught in her throat. She couldn't believe he had made such a gesture. She also couldn't believe how fortunate she was to have noticed the note before meeting up with Sofia.

She read it three times, her smile widening with each word. For the first time in a long time, she couldn't wait for her shift to end.

* * *

Considering the fact that they were investigating an accident involving six cars, Sara and Sofia moved through their case quite quickly. They had not wrapped it by the end of their shift, but agreed that they had made significant progress, and that they could go home on time.

Once she was safely in her car and out of the parking lot, Sara pulled her phone out of her purse. She pressed the voice dial button and waited for it to beep.

"Grissom," she said clearly.

A moment later, the phone was ringing in her ear. It only rang twice before he answered.

"Grissom."

"Hey," she said. "Can you talk?"

"What can I do for you?" he asked rather than answering her question.

"I just left the lab," she said. "I was just wondering when exactly you wanted me to get to your place."

"I'm at my crime scene now. I'm probably going to be here for another two hours," he said.

"Yeah, fine," she said. "I'll go home first and shower. Call me on your way home and I'll meet you there."

"Okay," he said. "I'll call you back on that."

Sara giggled. "Who can hear you? Greg or a uni?"

"Yes, that's right," he said.

She giggled again. "I can't wait to see you, Griss," she said in a seductive voice. "I've been thinking about you _all_ _night_. I'm _aching_ for your –"

"Yes, right, I'll call you when I'm back at the lab," he said, cutting her off.

Sara began to laugh outright. "You're the best, Griss. You know that, right?"

She could hear the smile in his voice as he responded, "Good bye."

"Bye," she laughed, flipping her phone shut.

She had never realized how much fun it could be to talk to him like that. She'd have to try it again. Particularly when he was at a crime scene … with others within earshot.

* * *

It was over four hours later when Sara arrived at Grissom's house. She didn't even have time to ring the bell before he threw the door open.

"Well, hello," she grinned. "Happy to see me?"

"You have no idea," he moaned.

He grabbed her and pulled her into the townhouse, pushing the door closed as he pressed his lips against hers. Sara gasped slightly, but eagerly responded.

"What was that all about?" she asked when he finally broke the kiss.

"You are evil!" he exclaimed, smiling at her. "How can you say things like that to me?" He kissed her again. "While I'm at a crime scene?" Again his lips pressed against hers. "With Greg?" Another kiss.

Sara grinned and kissed his neck. "I wanted you to miss me," she said.

"I already did," he said, stepping forward with his arms still around her, directing her to the staircase.

"It's not as much fun when we don't work together," Sara said as they pulled apart to run up the stairs.

"No," he agreed, grabbing her again at the top of the stairs, kissing her as he pulled her down the hall. "But, we still get to do this."

Sara laughed as he led her through the bedroom door and to his bed. "This is _so_ much better than working a case together."

* * *

"Feel better?" Sara asked, kissing Grissom's chest.

"Mm-hm," he murmured, hugging her close. "I _did_ miss you tonight," he said. "I think we work well together. It's a shame to lose that."

"But, like you said, we need to create some distance," Sara said. "It won't be forever, right?"

"Who knows?"

"Well, I mean, once Catherine, Nick and Warrick are back, we'll be able to 'hide' easier. You know, more people, less chance of being noticed for any …" She trailed off, realizing that he wasn't looking at her anymore. In fact, he was looking determinedly away from her. "Gil?"

"Hm?" he hummed. He turned his head back in her direction, but still avoided eye contact.

"Gil, you have talked to Catherine, right?" she asked. "You did ask her about putting the team back together, right?"

"Not yet," he admitted rather reluctantly.

"Grissom!" she exclaimed. "You promised that you'd talk to her when we got back from Boston!"

"I know," he sighed. "I just …"

Sara shook her head. "Listen, King of Avoiding All Potentially Emotional and/or Awkward Conversations, Ecklie knows that you want the team back together. Ecklie is in charge of staff assignments. Ecklie could very easily call Catherine in tomorrow to discuss this. Do you really think she'd take it well coming from him?"

Grissom sighed. "If she hears it from him first, she'll probably never speak to me again." He smiled. "Well, by Catherine's standards, that's about two weeks. But, still …"

"Gil, please," Sara sighed. "Nick comes back to work in two weeks. Don't you think it would be better for him to come back to a reunited team? It's what I'd want, if I were him. He was abducted from a crime scene. Don't you realize how scared he must be to come back and go out to another crime scene? I think that having all his friends working with him will help him. Don't you?"

Grissom ran his hands over his face. "I know, Sara. Everything that you've said makes complete sense."

"So, you'll talk to Catherine, then?"

"Yes. I'll talk to Catherine."

"When?" she pressed.

"Next shift," he said. "I'll go in early."

"Do you promise?"

He smiled slightly. "Yes, Sara. I promise."

"Good," she said, leaning up to kiss him.

"Now," he said, rolling over so that he was lying on top of her, "if I'm going to leave early, we'd better make the most of the time we have."

Sara laughed as he kissed her again.

* * *

"Hi," Grissom said, knocking on Catherine's open office door.

"Hi," she smiled, waving him in. "I was planning to find you later. I didn't think you'd be here so early."

"I wanted to talk to you," he said, sitting down across from her.

"Is it about this?" Catherine asked, sliding a memo across to him.

Grissom took the sheet of paper and skimmed it. It was a memo from Ecklie, requesting a meeting with both of them.

"I think it might be," he said.

"Well, good. He doesn't say a thing about why he wants to meet with us; how I am supposed to be prepared?"

"Cath," Grissom said slowly, "do you like your job?"

Catherine looked at him in shock. "What?"

"I mean, I know you like being a CSI, but … do you like being a supervisor?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Is this going to be some weird, sharing session? Because, I'll be honest: coming from you, that would be _really_ strange."

Grissom sighed. She wasn't making this easy on him. "Listen, Cath, there's something I need to tell you."

"Okay," she said cautiously. "I'm listening."

He licked his lips. "The night we found Nicky, you and Warrick jumped in the ambulance with him and rode to the hospital. Sara, Greg and I stayed behind with Brass and Ecklie."

"Right," Catherine said. "You met us at the hospital later."

"Right," Grissom agreed. "It was during the intervening time …"

"Just spit it out, Gil."

"I asked Ecklie to put our team back together."

"What?" Catherine nearly whispered. She looked utterly shocked.

Grissom paused, choosing his words carefully. "Months ago, I told you that I regretted not fighting to keep the team together. Well, I've had enough. I know that we all work better together than we do apart. It doesn't make sense to have us split the way we are. And …"

"And?" Catherine prompted.

"As I watched that ambulance leave, all I could think was _this is wrong_. Nick and Sara, Nick and Greg, Nick and I … we've all been just as close as Nick and you or Nick and Warrick. Why was it right to pull us apart like that? We should have been together then. And, we should all be together when Nicky comes back to work."

Catherine sighed. "I have missed the team," she said. "And, I'm sure it would mean the world to Nick to come back to the _whole_ team."

"So, you're for it?" Grissom asked tentatively.

She sighed again. "I guess," she said a bit helplessly, spreading her hands. "I can't fault your logic, or argue with anything you've said."

"The thing is, Cath …"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I'll have to give up my position, won't I?"

"I'm sure that's why Ecklie wants to talk to us."

She nodded again.

"What do you think, Catherine?"

She sighed. "What do I think?"

"Yeah. You've got to give me something."

"I think …" She paused and closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "I wanted to be a supervisor for years. _Years_, Gil. You know that."

He nodded sadly. "I've been recommending you for years."

"I always thought that it would be so easy," she mused. "Not that I thought you didn't work, but … I guess you made it look easy. You're good at what you do, Grissom."

He shook his head. "I'm not," he argued. "If I were good at this, my team would never have been split."

"You asked me what I think," Catherine said. "Do you want to know, or not?"

"Yes, I do want to know."

"I think that you're a better supervisor than I am."

Grissom stared at her in shock. He had certainly not expected to hear _that_.

"I don't mean in all things," she said quickly. "But … when Nick was taken, you were the rock for the team. You held everyone together, you provided strength and stability, you kept everyone going when all hope seemed to be lost. Gil … I couldn't do that. Even if you hadn't been there to do it, I just don't think that I could have held everyone together the way that you did."

"Cath …"

She shook her head to stop him. "I'm serious. For once in your life, let me pay you a compliment!"

Grissom smiled. "Well, thank you. You're being far too kind, though."

She gave him a half smile. "I just call them like I see them."

"So, you're okay with this?" Grissom asked. "Bringing the team back together? Going back to grave? Giving up …?"

"I think I saw more of Lindsey when I was on grave," Catherine said slowly. "So, for that reason alone, I'd go back."

"And, Nick and Warrick?"

She smiled somewhat sadly. "They miss the team."

"Yeah," Grissom said quietly. "So do Sara and Greg."

"And, Sofia?"

He shrugged. "She's been on grave with us for awhile now. I think she'll see the extra team members as more help."

"Okay," Catherine said. "Should we go see Ecklie?"

Grissom looked at her in surprise. "You want to go now?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "Let's do this before I change my mind."

"Cath, if you're not sure …"

She shook her head. "Let's do this," she said again.

* * *

Their meeting with Ecklie was very straight-forward. They explained that they had talked about merging their teams back together under Grissom's leadership, and had agreed that it was for the best of the lab and of all involved CSIs.

Ecklie, for his part, stated that Catherine, Warrick and Nick could rejoin Grissom, Sara, Greg and Sofia on graveyard. He also dictated that Catherine would retain her salary and her office, along with some of the powers of supervisor, although she would report to Grissom.

"Give me a week," he said as the meeting drew to a close. "I'll need to shift three more CSIs to swing."

"All right," Catherine agreed.

"I know that this is an odd request," Grissom said slowly, "but, could we have the move coincide with when Nick returns to work?"

Ecklie flipped through some papers, searching for Nick's return date. "Yes, that will be fine," he said. "That gives me a few more days. Perfect."

"Can we tell our guys?" Grissom asked.

Ecklie nodded. "Yes."

Grissom turned to Catherine. "Should we call a meeting when grave gets here?"

"All right," she said again.

"Thank you, Conrad," Grissom said, standing. "We really do appreciate this."

Ecklie smiled his cold smile. "Well, I _do_ do what's best for the lab."

With that, Grissom and Catherine left their seats. Grissom held the door for Catherine, then closed it behind them.

"Should we meet in the break room in an hour?"

Catherine nodded. "I'll let Warrick know."

Grissom looked at her closely. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

She nodded. "I've missed working with the whole team, too, Grissom."

He smiled slightly. "I'll see you in an hour, then."

She nodded again, and they parted ways, each bound for his or her own office.

Catherine walked into her office and closed the door behind her. She moved to her chair and sat down a little shakily. She stared straight ahead for a moment, then dropped her head into her hands, exhaling slowly, trying to hold back the tears.

She meant what she had said to Grissom. Grave had been better for her in terms of seeing her daughter. She missed the team. They did work better together. And, Grissom was a better supervisor than she was.

She just hated the thought that she had failed.

* * *

An hour later, both teams were gathered in the break room. Grissom walked in to find Warrick chatting with Greg about videogames, while Sara and Sofia were discussing the necklace Sara was wearing. He smiled slightly, pleased that Sara and Sofia had finally reached the point of being genuinely kind to one another, rather than the forced, polite civility they had shared for so long.

Catherine was already in the room, too, leaning against the table. Grissom joined her.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded. "You tell them."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again. "I'll get their attention, if you'd like."

Grissom smiled. "Go for it."

"Okay, everyone," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the others. "We need to talk to you for a minute."

"What's this all about, Cath?" Warrick asked good-naturedly. "You called me in from the field for a meeting? That's just so … Grissom of you."

Grissom smiled slightly. "Well, it's sort of my fault that you're here."

Sara looked up at him, her eyes shining. From the moment she had received word of the meeting, she had thought that it would be about their team. With Grissom's words, her suspicions were confirmed. He gave her a slight smile, then turned to look at everyone.

"As you know, several months ago, Ecklie decided that we would work better as two teams on two different shifts. At the time, we all disagreed with this decision, but we made the best of it. Catherine and I have been so proud of you and the work you've done under difficult circumstances."

Greg and Warrick frowned at each other. Sara avoided making eye contact with anyone, fearing that she'd somehow let slip that she knew what was to come. Sofia, too, appeared to be determinedly avoiding looking at her coworkers.

"Catherine and I have just had a meeting with Ecklie," Grissom continued. "During that meeting, he realigned our teams yet again."

A tension so thick it could be felt as it descended over the room. Warrick broke the edgy silence.

"What is his new plan, Griss?"

Grissom smiled. "You, Catherine and Nick will rejoin Greg, Sofia, Sara and me on grave," he said.

Warrick's, Sara's and Greg's faces lit up. Almost as one, they jumped out of their chairs, preparing to celebrate.

"When?" Greg asked with a beaming smile.

"In a little under two weeks," Catherine said, finally finding her voice again. "When Nicky comes back to work."

Warrick and Greg both cheered, high fiving each other. Warrick turned to Sara and pulled her into a tight hug.

"I've missed you, girl," he said.

"I've missed you, too," she replied, hugging him back just as tightly.

Only one member of the team seemed to be less than enthusiastic about their news. Sofia remained in her seat, smiling rather sadly.

"Sofia?" Grissom asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said. "I guess, it's just …"

"Just what?" Catherine asked, looking at her closely.

"Just that I won't be here with you," she said. "I've accepted a position with the police force in Boulder City."

"Colorado?" Greg asked.

"Yes."

"You're leaving?" He looked incredibly disappointed.

She smiled. "I was a police officer long before I was a CSI," she said. "I've really enjoyed working with all of you, but, my heart was never in it. And, sometimes … you just have to follow your heart."

Almost involuntarily, Grissom and Sara looked at each other. They both smiled softly.

Sofia was right. Following your heart could lead to the most wonderful of places.

* * *

Not shockingly, the end of shift found Grissom at Sara's apartment, tangled up with her in her sheets. The days that followed began to take on a familiar pattern. Once they had left the lab, they would drive separately to either Grissom's or Sara's house and spend the time until their next shift together. It wasn't always about sex, but it was always about being together. Sara loved every minute of it, and found herself falling deeper in love with Grissom.

Mary was right. She needed to tell him how she felt. She just didn't know how to do it.

And, even if she could have figured out what to say, she knew that she didn't have the courage to speak the words. What if he didn't return her feelings? What if she spoke too soon, and ruined what they had?

But, every time a thought like that would cross her mind, Grissom would put his hand on her leg as they sat on the couch, or roll over in bed to pull her into his arms, or smile at her in the lab. She knew that he cared about her as much as she cared about him.

She would tell him. She'd find a way.

Soon.


	36. Unions

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and minimal dialogue are taken from episode 601, "Bodies in Motion." The line that Grissom quotes while in his office was originally penned by Benjamin Franklin.

* * *

_Unions_

"Can we work together tonight?" Sara asked as she picked up her purse.

Grissom smiled sadly and shook his head. "Not until the team is back together and it's less obvious."

She smiled and hugged him. "I'm good at covering my tracks."

"I know you are," he smiled, hugging her back. "But, Greg figured it out…

"Greg is too smart for his own good."

"I know."

Sara smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "I'll see you after shift?"

"Well, you'll see me at the start of shift."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." Smiling, he kissed her again. "Drive safely."

"You, too."

Sara finally pulled herself away from her boyfriend and left his townhouse, pausing to pet Hank goodbye at the door. She climbed into her car and drove to the lab with a grin on her face.

The first thing she heard as she walked into the lab was a shriek. Alarmed, she followed the sound to the DNA lab, where she saw Mandy hugging Mia. Frowning, she entered the room.

"Hey, guys," she said. "Is everything all right?"

"Better than all right," Mandy grinned. "Tell her, Mia."

Mia smiled, looking a bit embarrassed. "I'm engaged!"

"Mia!" Sara exclaimed. "I had no idea you even had a boyfriend!"

Mia laughed. "Well, unlike _some_ of the people who work here, I try to keep my business to myself."

Cold fear filled Sara, but Mandy and Mia were both laughing.

"Hodges," Mandy explained, smiling at the frown on Sara's face. "If we have to hear about one more girl that he's dating…"

"I'll bet none of them actually exist," Mia said. "I think he makes them all up so he'll sound interesting."

Sara finally managed to coax forth a smile again. "I think he's easier for me to deal with because I just don't see him as much as you two do."

"Yeah, small doses are the way to go," Mandy agreed with a grin. "Mia, show her your ring!"

Beaming, Mia held out her hand so that Sara could admire the rather impressive solitaire.

"Very nice," Sara grinned. "When's the wedding?"

"Well…"

Sara frowned.

"Look, don't say anything because I haven't told Grissom yet, but I'm actually moving."

"To where?" Sara asked.

Mia bit her lip. "Minneapolis."

"Minneapolis!" Sara and Mandy exclaimed together.

"That's where Jason lives," she explained. "He got a job there a few months ago and moved. We've been doing the long distance thing, but … well, now that we're getting married, I'm moving up there."

"When?" Mandy asked, her face falling.

"I'm going to turn in my two weeks' notice tonight."

"Oh, Mia, I'm really going to miss you," Mandy sighed.

"I'll miss all of you, too," Mia said. "That's the only bad thing about all of this." She looked at Sara. "Do you know if Grissom's here yet? I sort of want to get this over with."

Sara glanced out into the hall just in time to see him walk into his office. "Yeah, there he is. He just walked into his office."

Mia drew a deep breath. "Wish me luck."

Mandy hugged her again. "I really am happy for you, Mia."

Mia smiled. "Thank you."

She walked out of the DNA lab, leaving Sara and Mandy staring at each other.

"Would you do it?" Mandy asked.

"Would I do what?"

"Would you move to another state for a man?"

Sara smiled, thinking of the man who had asked her to leave California for Nevada. "Yes."

Mandy looked shocked. "You didn't even hesitate!"

Sara repeated Sofia's words, "Sometimes, you have to follow your heart."

* * *

Grissom stretched across his couch, enjoying a few minutes of solitude. He only had about a quarter of an hour before Sara would arrive, and he wanted to make the most of his time alone. Clearly, that meant taking up the entire couch on his own.

It wasn't that he didn't want Sara to visit him. It wasn't that he didn't want to curl up in bed with her, and to know that she was beside him as he fell asleep. It wasn't that he didn't want to wake up next to her. He truly did love spending time with her.

But, he had been a loner for quite a few years. It was tough to give up some of his freedom.

He couldn't tell her, though. It would ruin everything they were building together. No, he'd keep his silence. He'd get used to sharing his time and his space with her.

After all, wasn't that what relationships were all about? Compromise?

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and Grissom got up off the couch to admit Sara. She smiled as he opened the door. Once inside, she leaned in to kiss him.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hi," he replied, closing the door behind her.

"Mia told you her news?"

He smiled. "She did. I'm happy for her."

"Me, too," Sara said. She sighed. "Minneapolis, though? I'm going to miss her."

"We all will," Grissom replied. "I promised her a recommendation for the lab there. I'm sure she'll do well."

"She will," Sara said as they settled themselves on the couch together. "She'd do well anywhere."

Grissom nodded his agreement. "I don't know how Greg's going to take her leaving."

Sara frowned. "I know they've always been friendly, but I didn't think they were that close."

Grissom smiled. "That wasn't what I meant. If we can't find a replacement by the time she leaves, he'll end up putting in some time in the DNA lab."

Sara laughed. "Oh, yeah. He'll _love_ that."

Grissom laughed with her. "Well, at least we have some time before he finds out. Mia hasn't told the group at large yet."

"Maybe there won't be anything for him to find out. Maybe you'll find a replacement in time."

"Well, I'll do my best."

* * *

Mia didn't announce her engagement to the rest of the lab until their unit meeting the following week. Catherine was thrilled for her, jumping out of her seat to hug her as Mandy and Sara had done. Warrick and Greg, too, were quick to offer their congratulations. The rest of the unit waited until after the meeting to hug her and exclaim over her ring. Grissom wondered in a vague sort of way if they were afraid of feeling his wrath if they tried something so bold as to congratulate Mia during his meeting.

"Okay, everyone, I think that about does it," he said at last. "I know we all have a lot of work to do, so …"

With those words, the members of the team started to leave the room. Catherine and Warrick were the first to depart. Even though they were still technically swing shift for this one last day, they and Grissom had agreed that it made sense for them to attend the meeting with their once and future team.

Sara and Greg left right behind Catherine and Warrick. They had an open homicide investigation that they were hoping to have finished by the end of the night. The lab techs followed them, leaving Grissom alone in the break room.

Thankful that no new calls had come in yet, he made his way to his office and shut himself inside. As excited as he was about the team coming back together, he was less than thrilled about the amount of paperwork it had provided. He was sure that he'd have to spend over the eight hours he was scheduled to be at the lab working on it. Barring any new cases that he would have to take, he _hoped_ to be able to leave the lab within ten hours.

* * *

Grissom's phone began ringing, breaking him out of the trance that hour upon hour of paperwork had brought about. He shook his head slightly and glanced at the clock. He had been working for nearly eleven hours.

"'He that lives upon hope will die fasting,'" he quoted quietly. He picked up his phone and brought it to his ear. "Grissom."

"Hey," Sara said. "I'm on my way home now. When will you get to my place?"

Grissom bit back a sigh. He glanced at his closed office door, reassuring himself that no one was listening. "Listen, Sara, I'm in paperwork hell right now. Merging the team back together takes some sorting."

"Oh," Sara said. "Well, come over whenever you're done, then."

"No, Sara, you're not understanding," Grissom said, a bit of frustration seeping into his voice. "It's going to be hours before I can leave. I don't want to wake you. I'm just going home today."

"Oh."

Grissom mentally kicked himself for the disappointment he heard in her voice. He had no right to take his frustration over the paperwork out on her. "Sweetheart, don't get upset. I didn't mean …"

"It's fine," Sara said quickly. "I'll just … I'll see you at work later."

"Right. And, as of next shift, we can start working together again."

"That's right," she said cheerfully. "Well, look, have fun with your paperwork. I'll see you at work."

"Sleep well."

"You, too."

Grissom hung up his phone and stared at it for a minute. As much as he hated that he had upset her, and hated the thought of the hours of work that stretched before him, he couldn't help but feel a little relieved. The thought of sleeping in his own bed was … nice.

Sometimes, he just needed some time to himself.

* * *

Sara was awake before her alarm went off to signal the time when she had to start getting ready for work. She practically jumped out of bed, grinning from ear to ear. Despite the fact that she had spent her first night in nearly a month without Grissom, she was incredibly happy and excited.

Catherine and Warrick were coming back to grave. Nick was coming back to work. In a few short hours, their team would be reunited.

Humming softly, Sara went into the bathroom to take a shower. She couldn't wait to get to the lab.

* * *

Apparently, she wasn't the only one who was excited to get to work. She walked into the locker room to see Nick standing there, clipping his ID onto his belt. Sara gave a squeal, and launched herself across the room and into his open arms.

"Hey, darlin'," Nick grinned, hugging her tightly. "Miss me?"

"Oh, so much," she sighed. "It's so great to have you back."

"It's great to be back," Nick replied with a smile, releasing her. "I can't believe Grissom got the team back together."

"I know," Sara grinned. "Isn't it awesome?"

Nick shook his head. "How he talked Ecklie into it, I'll never know, but, I'm glad he did. This was the best 'welcome back' present I've ever gotten!"

"Hey, Nicky!"

Nick and Sara both turned to see Warrick enter the locker room, his wide grin firmly in place.

"Hi, Warrick," Nick grinned.

Warrick slapped Nick on the back. "It's good to have you back, man."

"It's good to _be_ back," Nick replied. "Man, I can't believe how much I missed this place – and, how much I missed you guys."

"We've missed you, too," Sara said, hugging Nick again. She smiled at Warrick. "Both of you. Grave hasn't been the same since you left."

"Since we were forced out, you mean," Warrick laughed. "I don't think that any of us had much choice in the matter. Our diabolical Assistant Director took care of that for us."

Sara shook her head. "Ecklie sucks."

"Basically," Warrick agreed, laughing again.

"Hey, guys, Ecklie just walked past," Greg said as he walked into the locker room. "He looks _pissed_."

Sara and Warrick looked at each other in horror.

"Oh, no," Sara said, the color draining from her face. "We just –"

"We are so screwed," Warrick muttered.

Greg began to laugh. "Gotcha! I heard what you were saying as I walked in."

"Greg, that _wasn't funny_!" Sara exclaimed, smacking his arm. "I think my heart literally stopped beating!"

"Man, you just took five years off my life." Warrick ran his hands over his face and shook his head. "Well played, though. You definitely had us."

Nick chuckled. "You two had better be more careful about what you say at work."

"Yeah," Sara said, swallowing thickly. "I thought I was getting better at that …"

Shaking her head as she thought of all the reasons Ecklie could have found to fire her on the spot, she glanced at her watch.

"We'd better go, guys. We don't want to be late for the start of our first shift with the whole team back together."

Still laughing, the men followed her to the break room.

"Oh, hey, have you heard the good news?" Greg asked.

"What good news?" Sara asked.

Greg grinned. "Guess who's back?"

"Nick?" Warrick asked, giving Sara a wink.

Greg rolled his eyes. "Sofia!"

"Sofia?" Sara and Warrick repeated in shock.

"Sofia?" Nick asked, genuinely confused. "Where did she go?"

"Colorado," Sara replied. "What do you mean, she's back?"

"She just transferred back to PD," Greg said. "She's working as a detective now."

"Really?" Warrick asked. "Well, good for her. I'm sure she'll have fun with Brass."

"I can't believe she's back," Sara said.

"I can't believe she _left_," Nick stated.

"Hey, you miss work, you miss out," Warrick grinned. He glanced at Sara. "You don't seem all that excited about Sofia's return."

She coaxed forth a smile. "Sofia and I had our moments, but we were getting to be friends when she left. Of course, I'm glad she's back."

"You don't _seem_ very glad," Nick teased. "What do you have against Sofia?"

"Nothing," Sara exclaimed. "Why would I have something against her?"

"Eh, you just don't like to see Grissom working with another woman," Warrick teased. "That's why you don't like her."

Sara tried to look unaffected, but she was sure her face was slowly turning red.

"What about Catherine?" Greg asked quickly, glancing at Sara. "Doesn't she count as a woman? She works with Grissom, and Sara's friends with her."

"Look, you're not trying to get me in trouble with Catherine, are you?" Warrick asked.

"Why would I do that?" Greg asked airily.

"I don't know. You already tried to convince Sara and me that we were about to be fired. How should I know what other lows you'd sink to?"

Nick laughed. "Come on, that was funny!"

"To you," Sara replied, wrinkling her nose.

They finally entered the break room, where Grissom and Catherine were waiting for them. They were chatting, and looked as happy as the rest of them to be back together.

"Well, if it isn't the rest of our team," Grissom smiled as they sat down. "Thanks for joining us for the start of shift."

"Sorry," Sara said for all of them. "We didn't realize how long we were standing around chatting."

"What do you have for us, Griss?" Nick asked.

"You're going to love it," he assured them. "We're all together tonight."

"Really?" Sara asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes, really," Grissom said, smiling at her. "We have a fire in a trailer park. Apparently, a trailer and a gas main blew. Two victims that we know of."

Greg winced. "Burn victims?"

Sara looked at him, remembering his last encounter with a burn victim.

"Both died at the scene," Grissom said quickly, knowing what Greg was thinking.

Greg merely nodded, but he couldn't hide the relief in his eyes.

"Okay," Grissom said. "We need to leave; Brass is waiting for us. So, let's take three cars and get to the scene."

* * *

Sara couldn't disguise the pride she felt as she and the team crossed the parking lot to the crime scene together. Looking around at the others, she knew that she wasn't the only one who was more than happy to be back together as a team.

As soon as they had surveyed the damage, Catherine volunteered herself and Warrick to start working the perimeter. Warrick asked Greg to join them; the three of them stepped away from the trailer. Sara, Nick and Grissom headed toward the mobile home.

"Would you like inside or out?" Sara asked Nick as they followed Grissom.

"I'll take in," he replied.

Sara nodded and smiled. She began surveying the area immediately outside what had been the trailer's front door, while Grissom and Nick climbed inside.

They had only been working for a few minutes when Grissom's phone began to ring. Sara made a face.

"No good can come of that."

Nick laughed. "Yeah. Maybe it's Ecklie, calling to bitch Grissom out over what you and Warrick said.

Sara pursed her lips. "You know, maybe we should have sent you off to the perimeter with Greg. I think you two have the same sense of humor. You're a couple of regular comedians."

Nick laughed as Grissom disconnected his call.

"Trouble?" Sara asked lightly.

"We've got another homicide," Grissom replied.

Sara's face fell. "You're going to make us leave?"

"I'll send Catherine," Grissom said. "I'm sure she'll love me for it." With that, he pressed the button on his phone to radio Catherine.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Catherine, we have a 419 off Industrial," he said. "Would you like to handle it?"

"So, you get the team back together only to break us apart again?" she asked. "What kind of a perverse game are you playing here, Gil?"

"I'm not a pervert," Grissom replied staunchly.

Sara and Nick looked at each other, then quickly turned away, both biting their lips to keep from laughing.

"Yeah, I'll cover it," Catherine said with a resigned sigh. "I'm taking Warrick."

"Thank you," Grissom said, closing his phone.

Sara and Nick looked at each other again, this time actually bursting into laughter. Grissom gave them a slightly confused frown.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," they said as one.

Shaking his head, Grissom went back into what had been the trailer's kitchen. After exchanging one last grin, Sara and Nick went back to work.

* * *

Between them, Sara, Nick and Grissom managed to piece together what must have happened to the trailer. Based on all they had discovered at the scene, Grissom came to the conclusion that a car had come barreling down the road, launched off the gas main and literally slammed through the trailer in midair, landing on the other side and leaving a massive fire in its wake. Nick looked at him in shock as he calmly explained "the vehicular equivalent of a through and through."

"Flying car?" Nick asked as Grissom wound up his theory. "That's what we're gonna go with?"

"Mm-hm," Grissom replied as though it were the only viable theory.

In the end, it was the accurate theory. A neighbor in the trailer park had fallen asleep at the wheel; he awoke to find himself sailing through the air on a collision course with the trailer.

It was in the process of tracking down the car, however, that Grissom, Sara and Sofia uncovered a new case. Their broadcast for a blue Sunfire, the car used to destroy the trailer, led them to a blue Grand Am that had been collecting parking tickets for nearly a week while two bodies decomposed in the trunk.

Despite Sofia's assertion that they should process the car in place, Sara wanted to transport it back to the lab to ensure that no evidence would be lost or contaminated. Grissom agreed with Sara; they sealed the car shut and wrapped cellophane around the trunk, then had it towed to the lab's garage.

"You and Greg are on this one," Grissom told Sara as they drove back to the lab. "Nick and I still have a few things left to do with the trailer."

"I love a good decomp," Sara said sarcastically.

Grissom smiled at her. "Well, I think _I'm_ the one who should be upset about you working a decomp."

Sara felt her face flush and smiled at him. "Don't worry. My boss taught me that lemons get rid of the smell."

He smiled. "In that case, I might still let you come over tonight."

"It's been nearly a week since we've seen each other outside of work, Griss," Sara sighed. "I know we've been working together every day, but it's just not the same."

"I know," he replied, reaching across to touch her hand. "I'll make it up to you."

"Oh, really?" she said playfully. "How?"

"First, you'll come over after shift, and I'll make you din… well, whatever meal is appropriate."

Sara giggled. "Go on."

"Then, we'll have a movie night," he continued. "We'll snuggle up on the couch and watch … you can pick."

"Okay," Sara said, already trying to decide what they could watch.

"Then, we'll probably miss the last twenty minutes of the movie because we'll end up making out."

Sara laughed outright. "I'm so glad you're spontaneous about these things."

"Finally, we'll go to bed," Grissom concluded. "We'll fall asleep all cuddled up together, then we'll wake up on opposite sides of the bed."

Sara smiled, knowing that they often ended up that way. "Or, I'll be using you as my personal pillow," she added.

Grissom smiled, conceding her point. That was the _other_ way they woke up.

Once they arrived at the lab, Sara made a beeline for the break room, where Greg was sitting to finish a report on his last case. He looked up when she walked in.

"Hey," he said. "How did your blue car pan out?"

"It opened a new case for us," she replied. "Grab some coveralls and meet me in the garage."

"Whoa, now," Greg said. "What exactly am I walking into?"

Sara grinned. "Two bodies that have been in the trunk of a Grand Am for about six days."

Greg screwed up his face. "Lovely."

Sara laughed. "I'll see you in the garage."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Sara and Greg were staring into the trunk of the car. Greg turned his head away from the smell that was smacking them in the face.

"Well, they've definitely been there awhile."

"I told you," Sara said. "Look, I think the best way to do this will be to drain the trunk."

Greg nodded. "We just have to pull the drain plug."

"Correction: _You_ have to pull the drain plug."

"Are you _serious_?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"Can't we flip a coin?" Greg whined.

"Nope," Sara said. "This is your punishment for scaring years off my life with that Ecklie thing."

"Oh, _come on_," Greg moaned. "That was days ago! These two might have still been alive then!"

"Yeah," Sara agreed, "and I can hold a grudge. Go get some gloves. I'll set up the buckets."

Muttering Norwegian curses under his breath, Greg went to suit up for his experience. He returned with gloves firmly in place, and pulled plastic covers over his sleeves.

"For the record, I really hate you right now."

"For the record, these two have families who will love you forever for what you're about to do," Sara said.

Greg made a face. "I suppose that helps … a little."

"Good. Now, get to work."

Sara sat next to the trunk to keep watch over the buckets while Greg fished through the decomposing bodies, searching for the knob that would release their liquefied victims into Sara's buckets.

"Drain plug's probably under the carpet," Sara said helpfully.

"I think I've found it," Greg said as his fingers closed around it.

He pulled up on it gently, but it didn't move. He began to pull harder, thinking that the faster he got the plug out, the faster he could get his hand out of the human soup.

He pulled a little too hard.

His hand and the drain plug came flying out, bringing decomp along with them. It flew back at Greg, splattering all over his face and into his open mouth. Sara jumped back and stared at him in shock, watching as he gasped. She leaned backwards to grab a tissue for him.

"Technically, that makes you a cannibal," she said, passing him a tissue, which he immediately shoved into his mouth. "Grissom would be proud," she added.

Greg pulled the tissue out of his mouth. "_Grissom_ would have tasted it on _purpose_."

Looking a bit disgusted at that thought, Sara turned from Greg to check on the progress of their slow drain. She shifted one of the buckets to make sure it wasn't too full.

"It's working."

Greg gave her a look that clearly said that he wasn't impressed. "Yeah. Fan-freakin'-tastic."

"Oh, come on, Greg," Sara said encouragingly. "You'll live."

"Right," he said. "This whole experience has been just great. Um … do you mind if I go …"

"Go where?"

"I don't know," he said, standing up. "It's either to puke, to brush my teeth, or to puke then brush my teeth."

Sara giggled. "Yeah. Go. I'll keep an eye on this. But, just so you know, you're on body duty when you get back."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, horrified.

"I'm processing the car."

Greg made a disgusted sound and walked toward the door. "You know, what we need is someone brand new on this team," he said. "I'm talking 'just out of college' new. Someone _I_ can kick around."

"Hey, now you know not to mess with me," Sara called after him as he walked away.

He paused in the doorway to throw his hand up with one finger extended, then continued out of the garage. The sound of Sara's laughter followed him down the hall.

* * *

Sara and Greg's case was very fast-paced and provided them with one hot lead after another. They stayed at work for hours, only going home when they both knew they were too exhausted to continue.

As much as Sara wanted to spend time with Grissom as they had promised, she knew it wasn't going to happen. She called him on her way home to tell him that she just needed to sleep, and that she'd see him at the lab for their next shift.

Ten hours later, she was back at work. She and Greg immediately jumped back into their case. Working with Sofia, they identified both of their victims and the man who had shot them. The problem they faced was that their murderer had apparently dropped off the face of the earth.

Grissom was pleased with their findings, although he understood their frustration at not being able to charge the man who had shot two people and thrown them in the trunk of a car. As he pointed out to them, the man now had two counts of murder on his record; as soon as he could be found, he would be charged with the crimes.

After their conference with Grissom, Sara made her way to the locker room. She had to admit that she was happy to leave work at the end of her shift for the first time in weeks.

She walked into the locker room to hear the voices of Nick and Warrick.

"So, does Sara know?" Nick asked.

"Does Sara know what?" she asked as she entered the room.

Nick looked at Warrick, who looked back at him. Sara glanced between them, then started to open her locker.

"Fine, don't tell me. Why would I want to know, anyway?"

"It's your news, Warrick," Nick said. "I'm not going to tell it for you."

Sara turned to look at Warrick with raised eyebrows. He grinned at her rather abashedly.

"I got married," he said.

Sara's jaw dropped. "What?" she exclaimed. "When?"

"Over the weekend," Warrick said, looking even more like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Sara smacked his chest. "Why didn't you tell us? We would have come to your wedding!"

"Well, it was sort of spur of the moment …"

Sara finally shook her head and grinned at him. "Congratulations, Warrick," she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "I'm sure you and Tina will be very happy." She pulled back and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "You _did_ marry Tina, right?"

Warrick laughed. "Yes, I married Tina."

"Just checking."

Warrick laughed again. "You're killing me, girl."

"Are you up for a little celebration, Sara?" Nick asked. "I think that breakfast at the Peppermill is in order. We need to take this man out to celebrate his marriage!"

"Yeah, definitely!" Sara agreed. "Have you told the others?"

"Not yet."

She nodded. "I just left Greg. He was talking to Sofia, but I'm sure he'll want to come with us."

"Good. We'll find Grissom and Catherine."

Sara grinned. "This is going to be so much fun."


	37. Gasping

A/N: For some reason, this one was tough to write. Even when presented with plenty of time to work on it, I found myself writing about three lines, then getting distracted by something shiny. But, hey, it's done. I hope you like it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and minimal dialogue are borrowed from episode 603, "Bite Me."

* * *

_Gasping_

By the time Sara found Greg and brought him back to the locker room, Nick and Warrick were ready to go. Greg grinned at them.

"Sara tells me we're going out to celebrate something, but she won't say what because it isn't her news. So, which of you has something to share?"

Sara and Nick both turned to Warrick, who smiled his slightly embarrassed smile again.

"I got married over the weekend," he said.

"What?" Greg exclaimed. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope."

"Well, that's great!" Greg shook Warrick's hand. "Congratulations. Are you bringing Tina out with us?"

Warrick laughed. "Like I told Grissom, I don't think I'm quite ready to subject her to all of you yet. _Maybe_ one at a time, but the whole crew? She'd leave me."

Nick laughed. "Stop making us sound scary. Even collectively, we're not _that_ bad."

"You found Griss and Catherine, then?" Sara asked. "Are they coming?"

"Grissom is going to come," Nick said. "He said he has one thing to finish up first."

"And Catherine?"

"She has to take Lindsey to school."

Sara shook her head. "Well, there we go, guys. A perfectly good reason not to have kids. They cut in to your social life."

The guys were all laughing when Grissom found them. He smiled, happy to see his team reunited.

"Hey," he said as he joined them. "Everyone ready?"

"We've been waiting on you," Nick replied. He glanced at the group. "Are we carpooling?"

"Is this everyone who's going?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Nick replied. "We can all ride in my car if you want. You may be a little tight in the back …"

"I'll sit in the middle," Sara volunteered. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay, then," Nick said cheerfully. "Let's go!"

The men kept up a steady stream of banter the entire way to the restaurant, but Sara barely heard them. She was sandwiched in the backseat between Grissom and Greg; her proximity to Grissom blocked out everything else around her. She leaned in to him more than to Greg, breathing in his scent and feeling tingles radiating from every point of her body that was touching his. The drive only served to remind her of how long it had been since they had seen each other outside of work.

The restaurant was busy when they got there, but they only had to wait a short time for their table. Sara sat down next to Nick; Greg sat down on her other side. Grissom smiled at her as he sat directly across from her. She smiled back.

They fell into silence as they contemplated their menus, but once they had ordered, excited chatter broke out again. Nick was the first to ask the question on all their minds.

"Okay, Warrick, let's hear it," he said, grinning at the man who sat across from him. "Tell us all about your wedding."

Warrick grinned. "It was … fun."

"Seriously?" Sara asked. "That's all you're going to give us?"

Warrick laughed. "What do you want from me?"

"Details!" Sara exclaimed. "You said it was 'spur of the moment.' Tell us more."

"Well," Warrick began, "I guess I just … I really wanted to commit to Tina. I want … I don't want to waste any time. Life is too short."

"Yeah," Nick agreed quietly.

Sara looked at him for a moment. Seeing the shadow of pain in his eyes, she took his hand. He squeezed hers for a moment, then gave her a smile.

"So, you asked her to marry you?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"Yeah," Warrick smiled. "And, well … like I said, I don't want to waste any time. If we're going to get married, why wait? We both wanted to do it. So, we went to Circus Circus and got married."

"Did you at least let her change into something wedding appropriate?" Sara asked.

"Yeah, she wanted us to look nice. We both changed before the ceremony."

"What did you wear?"

Warrick rolled his eyes. "Explain to me why we let Sara come?"

"Hey!" Sara exclaimed. "Catherine isn't here, and _someone_ needs to be the woman in this group. If she finds out that we had you talking about your wedding and didn't get clothing details, she'll kill me!"

"Yeah, well, don't expect her to ask for many details," Warrick muttered.

"Wait, what?" Greg asked. "Catherine's not happy for you?"

"She said she is," Warrick said shortly. "Can we drop it?"

The arrival of their food certainly helped with Warrick's request. Even so, Sara and Nick managed to exchange a startled look. It was obvious that neither of them knew more than the other.

"So, tell us about Tina," Grissom said, making an attempt to steer the conversation to better ground.

"She's great," Warrick said, his face lighting up again. "She's a doctor. She works at Desert Palm."

"We knew _that_," Nick said. "Give us something new."

"Fine," Warrick said. "Yes, Nick, she's a good cook. Will you lay off now?"

They all laughed. Greg shook his head.

"I just can't believe you're married to someone that we've never met. It seems so … wrong."

"He has a point," Grissom said. "We had all met Eddie by the time Catherine married him."

"And hated him by the time she divorced him," Nick added.

Warrick rolled his eyes. "Such optimism. And you wonder why I didn't want to subject Tina to this."

"Oh, Warrick, you know we'd be nice," Sara said. "Calm down."

"I'll bring her in," he promised. "Maybe we can all go out for lunch or something. The issue will be finding a time that works for all of us. Her hours are as wacky as ours. It makes her nuts."

"Well, I wish you luck," Grissom said, looking into Warrick's eyes. "I really admire you for what you've done."

He looked from Warrick to Sara, who flushed slightly under his gaze.

In that moment, as Nick and Greg started teasing Warrick about not letting them give him a bachelor party, Sara realized anew how much she cared about Grissom. How much she was falling for him. How easily she was falling in love with him.

She needed to tell him. Somehow.

* * *

After breakfast, Nick drove them back to the lab so they could pick up their cars. After hugging Warrick and congratulating him again, Sara bade the other men farewell. Nick called goodbye from inside his car; Greg waved as he crossed the parking lot. Grissom gave Sara a smile.

"I'm parked next to you," he said. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Sara smiled, waving as Warrick climbed into his car.

"This was fun," Grissom said as they walked across the parking lot.

"It was," Sara agreed. "We all need to hang out more."

"We do," Grissom said. They reached their cars and he lowered his voice. "I thought that maybe you and I could hang out right now. Would you like to come over for a bit?"

"_Yes_," Sara said empathetically. "God, Griss …"

"I know," he said, opening his car door. "I'll see you soon?"

"I'll speed the whole way."

Grissom shook his head. "Be safe, Sara. I don't want you to kill yourself trying to get there faster. We've got plenty of time."

"I'll be careful," she said. "You be safe, too."

With another smile and a wave, he climbed into his car.

"I'll be careful," Sara muttered as she got into her own car and turned the key in the ignition. "I can speed as carefully as the next driver."

Despite her best efforts, speeding was not an option on the way to Grissom's house. She managed to hit every single red light between the lab and his neighborhood.

As frustrating as the drive was, it gave her time to think. She had spent the past week congratulating first Mia and then Warrick on entering into the state of holy matrimony. Being surrounded by happy couples like that was rather … inspiring.

It wasn't that she wanted to get married. She and Grissom had never once even discussed marriage. She had no idea how he felt about the idea, and, truth be told, she wasn't even sure where she stood on the institution of marriage. As a general rule, she had always been rather opposed to it. However, after being in Mary's wedding and seeing her with Tom and their baby … Sara thought that she could, one day, be persuaded to change her mind.

However, that day had not yet arrived.

So, marriage was out. But, there had to be another way … she wanted to show Grissom how much she cared, to make a commitment to him …

A smile lit up her face as she came up with the perfect plan.

* * *

Grissom, who did not appear to be the same red light magnet that Sara was, was waiting for her when she arrived at his place. He met her at the door with a smile, and pulled her inside, giving her a lingering kiss.

"Hi," he smiled as he broke the kiss.

"Hi," she replied, returning his smile.

He kissed her again. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," she whispered, leaning in for another kiss. "Work sucks."

Grissom laughed. "Work brought us together."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Why aren't you kissing me?"

Laughing again, Grissom took Sara's hand and led her to the bedroom. "I've got much more than kissing planned for you, my dear."

* * *

Grissom and Sara spent the entire day together. After Grissom gave Sara far more than kisses, they fell asleep wrapped up in each other's arms. They awoke much later, ready to make up for all the time they had lost to a hectic workload.

They lay in bed together, cuddling each other without really speaking. They finally crawled out of bed and spent hours talking and watching tv. Then, when it was getting close to the time when Grissom, who had to be at the lab early for a meeting with Ecklie, had to get ready for work, he made her dinner. It was as they sat at his table eating their ravioli with tomato basil sauce that Sara dared to make her suggestion.

"So, I've been thinking," she said, looking up at him.

"About what?" he asked.

"Everything that's happened recently."

Grissom glanced up. "You mean with the team?"

"No. Yes. Well, not exactly."

Grissom finally gave her his full attention. "What were you thinking, Sara?"

"I was thinking about what Warrick said," she said. "That life is too short to wait to do the things you want to do."

Grissom gave her a smile. "Planning to try skydiving?"

Sara took a deep breath. "No."

Realizing how serious she was, his smile faded. "What are you saying, Sara? What is it that you want to do?"

"I want to ask you what you think … I was thinking that maybe …" Another deep breath. "I'd like for us to move in together."

Grissom's face registered complete shock. It was obvious that he had never even thought of doing such a thing.

"I'm not saying that you have to move in to my place, or that we have to live here … we could find a new place, our own place, if you'd like …" She trailed off.

Grissom merely stared at her, at a complete loss for words.

Sara's face slowly turned a brilliant shade of red as she realized that his face had not relaxed from the stunned expression that had followed her suggestion. "Gil? Oh, God. You think this is a terrible idea, don't you? You hate it. Oh, no. I shouldn't have … I'm sorry. Forget I ever said it."

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his flabbergasted mind, Grissom realized that it was time for some damage control. "No, Sara, wait," he said. "Slow down. It's just … I'm really surprised. We've never talked about this before. I just don't know … I need some time to think about this."

"Okay," she said, relieved that he hadn't just shot her down outright. "Time. Yeah. Take all the time you need."

Grissom exhaled slowly. He'd need time, all right. Time to figure out how to tell her no.

* * *

Grissom had never been so grateful for a meeting with Ecklie. Because it was scheduled before their shift started, he had a perfectly good reason to leave early – to escape from the tension that had descended following Sara's proposal.

"Just stay until you have to leave," he said to Sara, leaning down to kiss her goodbye. "There's no reason for you to go in early just because I have to meet with Ecklie."

"Have fun with the budget," she smiled.

"I always do," he replied. "I'll see you in a few hours."

Sara nodded and kissed him again. "Bye."

Grissom gave her one last smile and left her alone on his couch. He made his way out to his car and climbed in. He put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it right away. He exhaled slowly, gripping the steering wheel. Sara's words floated through his head on a continuous loop.

_I'd like for us to move in together._

To say that her suggestion had been a surprise would be an understatement. He had never expected that she would want to do such a thing. They certainly spent plenty of time together outside of work; he had thought that she would be content with that. He was. In fact, he was tempted to say that spending any _more_ time together would be excessive.

Couldn't she see that? Couldn't she see that they both needed time alone? Couldn't she see that they needed to make sure that they didn't kill what they were building by smothering one another?

He took another breath and finally turned on the car. He knew what he needed to tell her. He just had no idea how to do it. Maybe burying himself in work would help. He often stumbled upon his best ideas while his mind was totally and completely occupied with a case. He hoped that this would be one of those times.

* * *

The case was bloody, if nothing else. Sara, Warrick and Nick stopped short as they approached the staircase where the victim was lying face up. A deep gash across her forehead seemed likely to be the source of all the blood that surrounded her.

Grissom gave them orders quickly. Sara was to go up the front stairs and process down the back stairs, where the young woman had died. Warrick was to process all the bloody footprints and any other blood evidence between the staircase and the kitchen door. Nick was to help Brass with the husband. Greg had already started working with the paramedics. Catherine was busy sampling the blood around the body.

Sara finished processing the staircase and went upstairs to get started on the bedrooms. She was a bit surprised to discover that the husband and wife slept in separate bedrooms. Shrugging it off as just something that worked for their relationship, she began processing the wife's room.

She was still working when another flashlight beam entered the room. She looked up to see Grissom holding the source of the light.

"Hey," she said with a slight smile. She immediately launched into a description of her findings thus far. "Husband slept in the other room; his reading glasses are on the nightstand, clothing is in the dresser…"

"That's odd," Grissom said as Sara threw back the blankets and began looking through the bedding for evidence. "A man and a woman who don't share a bedroom … arrange to have a night alone … send their daughter to a relative … go out to dinner … have drinks by the pool … but they sleep in separate bedrooms."

Sara stopped looking through the sheets and looked at Grissom. "Maybe … one of the snored," she suggested. "Or … had insomnia. Or … liked to work at night."

"Or maybe they were suffocating each other, and he couldn't breath."

The words came out so quickly and with such conviction that they slapped Sara across the face. Clearly, Grissom wasn't talking about the victim and her husband. More to hide how upset she was than anything else, Sara opened the drawer of the nightstand. The light from her flashlight danced across a bottle of sexual lubricant. She picked it up and shined the light on it.

"Sexual lubricant," she said. "It's half empty … sticky ..." In the moment between looking at the bottle and looking at Grissom, everything seemed to fall into place. So, he didn't want to live with her. Well, they could deal with that …somehow. For now, though, they had to remain consummate professionals. "You know, you don't have to sleep in the same bed together to have sex … or have romance."

Grissom looked at her for a minute, frowning slightly. She knew what he had inadvertently admitted, and she was okay about it. He smiled.

"I'm going to go see the doctor."

Sara looked up at him, slowly realizing that he meant Doc Robbins. "I'll grid the house," she said, smiling.

Grissom smiled and nodded, then left the room.

Once he was gone, Sara put down the bottle of lube. She exhaled slowly.

She may have acted as if everything was fine, but it wasn't. Not by a long shot.

* * *

Grissom didn't see Sara again until the end of shift. He found her in the locker room, putting her things away.

"Will you come over for a bit?"

Sara gave him a cold look. "Are you sure you want me to? Won't I be _suffocating_ you?"

Okay. Maybe she wasn't quite as all right about what he had said as he had thought. "I shouldn't have said that," he said.

"No, you should have," Sara said, slamming her locker closed. "We need to be honest with each other, or this isn't going to work."

"Right," he agreed.

She glanced around. "We can't do this here."

"You're right," he agreed again. "Come over."

Sara nodded a bit reluctantly. "I'll see you soon."

She brushed by him without a backward glance. Grissom ran his hands over his face.

This was going to take some work.

* * *

By the time Sara arrived at Grissom's house, she was in a towering rage, and he was terrified of what his ill-timed comment may have done to their relationship. As soon as the door was closed behind her, she unleashed her fury on him.

"I'm _suffocating_ you?" she yelled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It meant –"

"I thought you _liked_ spending time with me. I thought that's what this whole thing was about – getting to know one another better! Isn't that what you said, Griss? All those months ago? That we were in this to get to know one another better? That we were in this to spend more time together? That I'm your _girlfriend_?"

"Yes, Sara, you're right –"

"Well, I'm doing what you asked of me!" she yelled. "I'm trying to be a good girlfriend, I'm … I love spending time with you! I look forward to it. And, now, I find out that you _can't breathe_ because I'm with you so much!"

"No, Sara, you're missing –"

"And, of course, you can't tell me that when we're alone!" she continued. "Oh, no, you have to throw this on me at a _crime scene_! Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to act normal for the rest of the day?"

"I know how hard I'm trying to explain myself!" he finally yelled. "Will you please let me talk?"

His anger was enough to silence hers; she closed her mouth and stared at him.

"Sit down," he said, indicating the couch.

Sara sat and looked at him expectantly.

"Look, Sara," he said slowly, sitting down next to her, "it's not that I don't want to spend time with you. It's not that I don't love spending time with you. It's not that I don't care about you. It's just … I guess that the idea of moving in together scared me."

"Really?" she asked sarcastically. "Grissom, you practically lost your dinner when I suggested it. I'd say it completely terrified you."

He shook his head. "It wasn't because of you," he said.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Are you going to give me one of those 'it's not you, it's me' speeches?"

"I won't patronize you," he said. He licked his lips. "I just don't want to rush into anything."

"I've seen people jump into things far quicker than this."

"Yes, I'm sure you have. But, how well has it worked out for them?"

Sara merely looked at him, shaking her head slowly.

"Sara, listen to me. I've wanted this for so long … I don't want to screw it up now."

"So, moving in together would screw this up?"

"At this point, yes. I'm just … I'm not there yet. I'm not ready for that step. And, that has nothing to do with how much I care about you or how much I want to be with you. It has everything to do with changing … and, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm a little old to make big changes so quickly."

"Well," Sara said, standing up, "I'll give you all the time you need. I mean, God, it only took seven years for you to decide that we should be together at all. What's another seven before you decide you're ready to commit to me?"

"Sara, that's not fair."

"No, it's the truth," she nearly spat. She picked up her purse.

"What are you doing?" Grissom asked, standing up with her.

"I'm give you space," she said. "I don't want you to suffocate."

With that, she walked out his door, nearly slamming it behind her.

Grissom sat back down, burying his face in his hands. After a moment, he was aware of pressure against his leg. He looked down to see Hank's chin resting on his knee. The dog looked up at him with mournful eyes.

"I screwed up," Grissom told him, patting his head. "But, don't worry. I won't let her walk out of our lives that easily. I'll find a way to make this right."


	38. Making It Right

A/N: I'm pretty excited about this chapter. I hope you like it!

Okay, there are bunches of things in this chapter that aren't mine. First, I don't own CSI. Because, you know, that's news.

Next, I don't own Lifetime. I will admit to watching more than one Lifetime movie marathon as a college student – here's a shout-out to the roommates who watched them with me!

Finally, I also have to cite Mary's speech about commitment back to the marriage class that I took during my undergrad studies. Not that I was getting married – the class studied the relationship dynamics in marriages, other romantic relationships, and families. It was truly fascinating, and I'm glad to use a little bit of it here!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

_Making It Right_

Righteous anger took Sara all the way home at breakneck speeds. She did have enough self-awareness to realize that it would be a bad idea to try to call Mary while driving, despite the fact that she desperately wanted to talk to her. Considering her current state of mind, she could only concentrate on two things at once, and, given that one of them had to be her anger, she was fairly certain that the other should be the road.

She parked her car in her assigned space at her apartment building and stormed up the stairs to her unit. She threw the door open and stalked inside, slamming the door behind her. She dropped her purse and keys on the counter and finally let herself truly go. Balling her hands into fists, she wordlessly screamed out her frustration.

"Damn him," she whispered when she had finally stopped screaming. A tear slid down her cheek. "Damn him."

* * *

Grissom sat still on his couch for a long time, running his hand over Hank's head. The dog, ever the loyal companion, stayed with Grissom, resting his chin on his master's knee. Finally, Grissom stood up.

"I have to fix this," he informed the dog. "I just … I have no idea how. What can I do?"

Hank looked up at him and whined softly.

"She wants us to move in together," Grissom said. "But, that would be a terrible mistake. I know it would. I just … I can't do that. I don't care if it _is_ my inability to commit. Whatever the reason, it's a good thing, because it's keeping us from destroying what we have."

He glanced around, his eyes falling on the door Sara had slammed as she stormed out of his house. Sighing, he sank back down onto the couch.

"But, if not living together is saving our relationship, then why isn't she here?"

* * *

"Hello?"

"Men suck."

"Sara?"

"Yeah."

"What's wrong?" Mary asked.

"Men suck," Sara repeated.

Mary giggled. "Mostly."

"I'm being serious!"

"Okay, sweetie," Mary said calmly. "Tell me what's going on."

"Do you have time? This is a long story."

"Yeah, Josie just fell asleep. I've got a couple hours before she'll wake up. Start talking."

Sara drew a deep breath. "Everyone I work with is getting married."

"Um … okay …"

"Mia got engaged and moved to Minneapolis," Sara said. "And, now Warrick's married to Tina."

"Well … isn't that a good thing?"

"Yeah, it's great," Sara said. "I'm really happy for them. I mean, I'm sad that Mia left, but you have to follow your heart, right?"

"Most definitely."

"Okay. Well, all these weddings made me think more about my relationship with Grissom."

"Wait," Mary said suddenly. "Back up the truck. I thought you didn't do marriage."

"I didn't. I don't. I guess."

"But, you want to marry Grissom?"

"I don't know!" Sara moaned. "That's really not exactly the point, though."

"Okay. What is the point?" Mary asked. Even after years of being Sara's friend, she could still get frustrated by her inability to get to the heart of the matter without a drawn out build-up.

"Like I said, I don't want to get married … at least, not right now," Sara said. "But, I want … I want to tell Grissom how I feel. So, I did. Well, I tried."

"You finally told him?" Mary exclaimed. "Sara, that's fantastic! What did he say?"

"I didn't exactly …" Sudden tears threatened to fall. Sara swallowed hard, trying to force them back. "I asked him if we could move in together," she said.

"Wait," Mary said again. "Instead of telling him that you love him, you asked him to move in with you?"

"Yeah," Sara said, suddenly realizing how ridiculous it sounded. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I'm sure it did," Mary said wearily. "Well? What happened next?"

"He said he needed time to think about it."

"Well, that's not so terrible," Mary said. "It's not even out of the ordinary. It's a major life decision, Sara. Even just moving to a different house is big, but moving in with someone? That's huge."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "I can understand why he'd want time. But, then, we were at this crime scene …"

"And?" Mary prompted.

"I was in charge of processing the bedrooms," Sara said. "The woman who died was married, but she and her husband slept in separate bedrooms."

"Strange."

"Yeah, I thought so. But, you know, who am I to judge? So, I just accepted it and did my job."

"Okay …"

"Then, Grissom came into the wife's room. We started talking about the fact that they slept in separate rooms. I had all these reasons why that could work for their relationship: one snored, one worked at night, one had insomnia …"

"But, he wasn't buying it?"

Sara drew a deep breath that ended in a sob. "He said that they were suffocating each other and he couldn't breathe!"

"He what?" Mary asked in wonder. "What would make him say something like that? Did he interview the husband, or …?"

"He wasn't talking about the victim and her husband, Mar!" Sara sobbed. "He was talking about _us_!"

"Okay, Sara, just calm down," Mary said. "Take a deep breath. You're one step away from totally freaking out."

Sara did as Mary had instructed and took a deep breath. Within moments, she could feel her self-control returning.

"Okay?" Mary asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. Now, how do you know that he was talking about the two of you?"

"Oh, we discussed it later," Sara said. "I went back to his place after shift and we had it out."

"And, he said that he was talking about you?"

"He said that he shouldn't have said that."

"Well, at least he recognized that it was a mistake."

"I don't know," Sara said. "Isn't it better that he said it? That we got it out there?"

"I guess," Mary admitted reluctantly. "So, what happened?"

"Oh, I screamed and raged at him for awhile," Sara acknowledged. "Then, he started babbling about how he's _not ready_ to move in with me, and how it would _ruin_ our relationship. Utter bullshit."

"Do you think so?" Mary asked mildly.

"You don't?"

"Well, Sar, if he's not ready, he's not ready."

"Mary, the man is fifteen years older than me. If _I'm_ ready to do this, I'd say he can make this sort of commitment at this point."

"You know, I learned in a class in undergrad that living with a significant other isn't a commitment," Mary said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sara asked. "Of course it is! You're sharing your lives."

"And, you're not sharing your lives now?" Mary asked.

"I …"

"Just listen," Mary said. "We learned that moving in with someone is actually a _lack_ of commitment. You do share a house, and, like you said, your lives. But, you don't share a bank account. You don't have a legal commitment to stay. You can walk out anytime you want, leaving him with the rent or mortgage payments. There's nothing holding you there, and no red tape to keep you from ending it all.

"There have been studies done on this," Mary continued. "The majority of couples who live together before they're married – unless they're engaged when they move in together – don't actually get married. They break up before they can make it that far."

"But …"

"I know, I know," Mary said. "It doesn't make sense at first at all. Everything in you will fight against it. I felt the same way. I mean, doesn't it make sense to live with someone before you marry them? To make sure it works?"

"Yeah, exactly!" Sara said.

"Yeah, but, it's also starting a relationship off with a flimsy commitment – and, with the idea that it will fail. If you truly believe in the relationship, why not just get married?"

"Like Warrick," Sara mused.

"Huh?"

"Warrick said something …"

"What did he say?"

"He said that life is too short to waste. After Nicky … I think we all have a tendency to look at things like that now."

"Yeah," Mary said quietly. "I can see that."

"Well, anyway, he said he loves Tina, and he didn't want to waste time. So, he asked her to marry him, and they went and did it that day."

"See?" Mary said. "Commitment."

"Yeah," Sara agreed quietly. She sighed. "Maybe I was a little harsh on Grissom. Maybe … I wanted too much, too soon. Maybe … I was wrong."

"I wasn't there," Mary said. "I can't judge."

"I was wrong," Sara said again, this time with more conviction. "But, he was wrong, too. What he said was really harsh, too."

"You're not ready yet, are you?" Mary asked knowingly.

"No," Sara admitted. "I know what I need to do. I just need to get myself to the place where I can do it."

"If you need to talk to get to that place, you know that I'm here for you."

"I know," Sara said, finally smiling. "You're the best. I don't know what I'd do without you."

* * *

Grissom wandered around his kitchen, idly looking for something to eat. He took an apple from the bowl on the table, stared at it for a minute, then put it down. He pulled a yogurt from the refrigerator, considered it, then put it back. He finally settled on microwaving a bag of popcorn, which he carried to the couch to eat. He took a handful, his eyes widening in surprise as he realized that it was butter-free. He sighed. There was only one reason butter-free popcorn could have found its way into his house: Sara.

"Sara says that the butter popcorn is bad for you," he informed Hank, who was sitting at his feet, hoping that some popcorn would make its way to the floor. "Something about it not being real butter."

Hank looked up at him expectantly. Shaking his head, Grissom threw a piece of his snack down to his dog.

"I don't know what I'd do without her," he admitted. "I fought this for so long – for far _too_ long. Now that we've let ourselves get involved … I need her. More than I ever thought possible."

Hank's paw on his knee was probably more a plea for popcorn than anything else, but Grissom took it for moral support. He patted his head and gave him more of the popcorn.

"I've just got to make her see reason," Grissom said at last. "We'll sit down and talk this through. I'll present a totally logical argument. She's a scientist – she thrives on logic. We'll get through this on sheer logic. I know we will."

Feeling certain that his plan would win Sara back, he turned on the television. He flipped through the channels for awhile, finally stopping on a channel that was playing a commercial so that he could go get a Pepsi to go with his popcorn. When he walked back into the living room, he discovered where he had stopped.

_They were destined to be together, but life worked to keep them apart_, a tv announcer said as scenes from a movie played. _Now, he'll do whatever it takes to win back the love of his life. "Destiny" starts now on the "Reconciliation Sunday" Lifetime Movie Marathon._

Grissom picked up the remote, ready to turn the channel, when something stopped him. He looked down at Hank.

"Logic didn't work a couple hours ago," he said. "Maybe it's going to take something more. Do you think this movie might help me out? Give me a little inspiration?"

Hank looked up at him for a moment, then lay down, clearly ready for a nap.

"Well," Grissom said slowly, "it can't hurt."

He settled down on the couch, ready to watch his very first Lifetime movie.

* * *

The first movie was almost painful to watch. The storyline was predictable, the acting was poor, and the commercial breaks were far too frequent. Grissom found himself wondering how anyone could ever sit through one of these marathons. Then, the promos for the next movie began. It, too, dealt with a man going the extra mile to win back his love. Again, Grissom found himself thinking that the movie could be inspiring.

Six hours and three movies later, Grissom was completely hooked. He was sure that his brain was turning to mush from watching so many girly movies, but he couldn't make himself stop.

Perhaps it was the central theme that made him keep watching. All the movies dealt with two lovers who were torn apart by circumstances. Some of the circumstances were beyond their control, but some were within it. In each movie, the ending saw the couple reunited. In each movie, there was a grand gesture – usually made by the man – that helped them to reach that point.

"A grand gesture," Grissom mused. "Maybe that's what I need."

He thought for a moment, then reached for his phone. He was on the verge of calling to order flowers for Sara when he stopped. No, that would never do. For one thing, he had already done that. And, although it had worked beautifully the first time, he had a feeling that it would take more than a Gerber daisy to make up with her this time around.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling incredibly frustrated. He was not one for grand gestures. He couldn't do what those men in the movies had done. He couldn't whisk her away to the tropics (they'd never get the time off), or reunite her with the child she had given up for adoption when she was a teenager (she didn't have any children, given up or otherwise), or dress up in a tux and serenade her at work (it would seriously blow their cover). None of those things were _him_, and he was quite sure that none of them were _Sara_, either.

He needed a grand gesture on a small scale. Something that would be big for him, and intensely meaningful for both of them. He'd have to give it some thought.

In the meantime, he needed to get some sleep before he had to be back at work. Feeling better now that he at least had the beginning of a plan, he took himself to bed.

* * *

Perhaps his brain had continued to mull over his problems as he slept. Whatever the cause, Grissom awoke with the perfect plan in mind.

Now, he just needed to put it into action.

* * *

Their next shift was nothing if not awkward. Grissom and Sara had not spoken to each other since she had stormed out of his house. Grissom had yet to enact his plan, and Sara had yet to admit to him that she had been wrong. They could barely look at one another.

With all that stood between them, all non-job conversation was completely out of the question. More to avoid the tension than anything else, Grissom assigned Sara and Nick to a case in Henderson, while he and Warrick would work a case on the Strip. The distance would be the best thing for them.

The double homicide that Sara and Nick were investigating was very involved. Sara was glad. "Very involved" meant that it took a lot of mental power, which left her little time to dwell on her personal life. Burying herself in her work meant that she could hide her emotions.

Or so she thought.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked as they worked on swabbing the blood evidence around the bodies.

"Yeah," Sara said quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," Nick said. "You just seem a little quiet, that's all."

Sara shrugged. "Well, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."

"You're sure?" Nick asked, glancing at her as he put a handful of swabs away. "You know, I'm a good listener."

Sara looked up from the blood pool in front of her and gave him a smile. "I know, Nicky. Believe me, if I need to talk to you, I'll let you know."

"Okay," he said. "I'm going to go check out the rest of the house."

Sara nodded. "All right. I'll finish up in here."

Nick left the room, and Sara breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was for him to spend the entire shift pressing her to talk about her feelings.

She needed to talk to Grissom so that they could work this out. She did not want to bring their problems to work ever again.

* * *

Sara went straight home after shift, thinking that she'd take a shower, then give Grissom a call. After all that Mary had said, and after giving herself time to process, she knew that her overreaction had been far worse than Grissom's slip of the tongue. She'd apologize and do her best to make things right.

Apparently, Grissom was even more eager than she was to fix their relationship. She had just stepped out of the shower when she heard her doorbell ring. Jumping slightly, she tied her robe tightly around her and made her way to the door. She glanced through the peephole, relieved to see Grissom on her doorstep. She opened the door slowly.

"Hi."

His eyes traveled up and down her body, taking in the bathrobe and wet hair. "I'm sorry," he said. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Ten minutes ago would have been worse," she said, opening the door wider. "I was still in the shower then. Come in."

Grissom stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He followed Sara into the living room, and sat down with her on the couch.

"I'm glad you're here," Sara said. "We need to talk."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "Listen, Sara, what I said –"

"Was the truth," Sara interrupted. "You just told the truth, and I shouldn't have gotten so angry with you for it."

Grissom's eyes widened. He had not expected to hear that.

"I talked to Mary," Sara said, smiling at the surprise on his face. "She … helped me realize some things."

"I watched a lot of tv," Grissom said. "It helped me realize some things, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Grissom said. He took a deep breath. "I want … to give you something. A present."

Sara's eyes lit up. "A present?" she repeated. "Why? I was the one who was out of line."

"I was out of line, too," Grissom acknowledged. "What I said … especially at a crime scene …" He shook his head. "I want to give you something to make it up to you."

"You don't –"

"Please," he said. "Let me do this."

Sara nodded, watching as he reached into his jacket pocket.

"If you don't want it, I'll understand," he said slowly, pulling out a small, wrapped box. "But, you have to know that I really want you to have it."

Sara nodded slowly, her mouth suddenly dry. She took the gift and tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a small jewelry box, one that would hold a necklace or bracelet. With trembling fingers, she lifted the lid to reveal –

"A key?" she asked.

Grissom nodded. "It's the spare key to my townhouse."

Sara's eyes widened as a million questions sprang into them.

"I'm not asking you to move in," Grissom hastened to clarify, "but I thought that you might like to have it. Now, you can –"

Anything else that he would have said was lost in the press of her lips against his. He smiled, pulling back slightly.

"You like it?" he asked.

"I love it," she said, kissing him again. "This is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me."

Grissom kissed her intensely, his hand sliding inside her robe. "Does this mean we're done fighting?"

"Yeah," Sara breathed, kissing him again.

"So, we can get to the make up sex?"

Sara laughed and began unbuttoning his shirt. "What do you think?"

Grissom untied her robe, pushing it back off her shoulders to reveal her bare skin. "I think I'm glad I got here right after you got out of the shower."

Laughing, Sara pulled him down on top of her. She was more than ready to put their argument behind them.


	39. Slow Recovery

I don't own CSI

A/N: I am so sorry about skipping a week! Believe me, I hated it as much as you did. What can I say? Real life took up too much time. But, I'm doing my best to make it up to you – this is the longest chapter I've posted in awhile. Not that I intended it to be that way … it's just how it worked out. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

Maisy, the coffee shop scene is dedicated to you. You'll know why! ;-)

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 605, "Gumdrops." I also took the teeniest bit of inspiration from a promo pic for 812, but I swear it doesn't spoil anything! In fact, even if you've seen the pictures, I doubt you'll catch the reference.

I also cannot claim ownership of Starbucks – but, Starbucks can claim ownership of plenty of my money. 

* * *

_Slow Recovery_

"So, you really have to leave?"

"I really have to leave," Grissom replied. "I have to go to the body farm for this seminar." He smiled at her. "Don't worry. Catherine will take good care of you and the boys."

"At work she will," Sara agreed, sitting up in bed. "But, _outside_ of work … I don't think she'll be able to take care of me the way you do." She gave him a coy smile and a look full of meaning.

Grissom felt his pulse increase at the way she looked at him. "I should hope not," he teased. "If she does, I think we need to have a serious discussion about this relationship. I was under the impression that we're monogamous."

"Yeah, we are," Sara said, smiling warmly, feeling tingles shoot through her at the way he looked at her. "I'm not very good at sharing … especially you."

Grissom looked at her, sitting in his bed, tangled in his sheets, wearing his t-shirt, and groaned. He crossed the room in three strides, pulling his polo shirt from his jeans as he went. By the time he reached the bed, he had pulled it over his head and thrown it aside. 

"Why do you have to make it so hard for me to leave?" he moaned, falling back into bed with her, taking her face between his hands to kiss her.

Sara giggled. "Awful pun."

"Unintentional," Grissom replied. "Come here. We only have half an hour before I have to leave, or I'll miss my plane."

"Well, then, we'd better make it count."

* * *

An hour later, Sara stepped out of the shower to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She ran into the bedroom to pick it up, smiling at the name on the display.

"Hello, Gilbert," she said cheerfully.

He chuckled. "Hello, my dear."

"Are you at the airport?"

"I am. I have about ten minutes before I have to board my plane."

"Miss me already?" she teased. 

"I do," he replied. "Sadly, however, that's not why I'm calling."

"Why are you calling, then?"

"Well, I was supposed to give you an assignment before I left, but since you distracted me …"

Sara laughed. "I didn't see you fighting me off at the time."

"Nor will you ever," Grissom said quietly. He cleared his throat. "So, about that assignment…"

"Right," Sara said, reaching into her purse for a notepad and pen. "What do you need me to do?"

"I sent Nick out of town," Grissom said. "The sheriff from Pioche called to report a murder; Nick was on-call, so I sent him. But, from what he's told me, it's a pretty messy scene – the house is full of blood pools and spatter, and all four members of the family are missing and presumed dead. Can you go back him up?"

"Yeah, sure," Sara replied. "A quadruple? Should I take Warrick or Greg along?"

"Ask Catherine if she can spare them. If she's okay with it, all three of you can go. I'm sure Nick's going to need the help."

"All right," Sara agreed. "Where are we going?"

Grissom rattled off directions while Sara scribbled them down. 

"Okay, I've got it," she said at last. "I'll get over to the lab to talk to Catherine and find the guys."

"Thanks, Sara."

"No problem. Have fun teaching about the recovery of human remains."

"I will," he said with an enthusiasm that made Sara smile. "You have fun, too."

"I will," she echoed.

"And, Sara," he said in a low voice, "I will miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," she replied, suddenly feeling a bit choked up. "Take care, Griss."

"You, too."

"See you in a week."

"See you then."

Sara waited until he had broken the connection before closing her phone. She sighed, pressing the phone against her lips for a moment. 

A week could be an awfully long time.

* * *

"Wait. Wait, wait, _wait_. Let me make sure I understand you." Catherine closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "Grissom is gone for a week, leaving me in charge of the shift. While I don't mind, this already puts us down one CSI. Before leaving, he sent Nick on a road trip to investigate a homicide that has turned into a quadruple. Then, he calls you from the airport and tells you that he wants you, Warrick and Greg to join Nick?"

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up," Sara said. 

Catherine shook her head. "I love the way we communicate around here."

"Look, Cath, if we all can't go, I understand, but I think needs at least one of us to go as back up. A quadruple is a lot to handle."

"I know," Catherine agreed. "Okay. You leave now. I'll send Warrick and Greg right behind you."

Sara's eyes widened. "You're sure?"

"Yeah. I'm calling you back one by one as I need help here, though."

Sara grinned. "Totally understandable."

"Have fun on your safari," Catherine said with a slight shake of her head.

Sara grinned. "Will do."

Sara couldn't dim her smile as she left Catherine's office. As gruesome as this case would undoubtedly be, she was grateful for it. It would provide just the rush, the change of pace, and the focus point she needed to keep her mind off how much she missed Grissom.

* * *

The drive to the crime scene was long, but it helped Sara to get her head into her work. By the time she reached the small, rather agricultural town of Pioche, she was more than ready to begin working the case. She was also excited about the idea of being away with three of her best friends – even if it was work-related. 

As she drove though the sleepy town, she wondered how Nick was faring with the locals. Small towns didn't usually take well to murders, or to the out-of-towners investigating them. Thinking of the fact that Nick had already been working for hours, she decided to take him some coffee. While she didn't see a Starbucks anywhere on Main Street, she did come across a mom and pop style coffee shop. She pulled into the parking lot and walked inside. 

"Hi," the woman behind the counter said as Sara crossed the threshold. "How are you this morning?"

"Oh, not bad," Sara smiled. "You?"

"Hanging in there," she replied. "What can I get you?"

"Two large coffees to go, please."

"You've got it."

"Thanks."

"So, what brings you to town?" the barrista asked as she poured coffee into two cups. 

"Excuse me?"

The woman smiled. "This is a small town. New faces stand out."

"Oh," Sara said. She smiled slightly. "I'm here for work."

"Good to hear," the woman said. "We need to keep the town's economy rolling."

"Right," Sara agreed, hoping that she'd never have to divulge the true nature of her business to this woman. More to end the conversation than anything else, she began looking at the magnets for sale on a rack on the counter. Most of them featured insects. Sara smiled. 

"Oh, those," the woman said, bringing the full coffee cups to the counter. She shook her head. "Our owner has this thing about bugs …"

"So does my boyfriend," Sara said with a smile. She spun the rack again. A magnet featuring two lady bugs engaged in a rather intimate act caught her eye. Unable to contain herself, she began to laugh. 

"Oh, no, you found it, didn't you?" the woman asked, looking utterly mortified. "I keep telling him, this is a family business … we can't display magnets with lady bugs doing things like that!"

Still laughing, Sara took the magnet off the rack. "Well, I'll take it off your hands."

The woman's eyes widened with shock. "You want to buy it?"

"My boyfriend studies bugs," she said. "He's an entomologist. He'll get the biggest kick out of this."

"If you're sure …"

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Well, that's seven dollars, all together."

Sara handed the money over, put the magnet in her pocket, and picked up her coffees. "Thanks a lot."

"To you, too," the woman said, still shaking her head.

Smiling again, Sara made her way out of the coffee shop. It was time to get to work.

* * *

Nick was surprised to see Sara, but not displeased. He knew as well as she did that he needed all the help he could get. He gave her a tour of the house, showing her the three blood pools and hundreds of bloody footprints. The house looked as though it had been utterly ransacked, yet all the family's wallets, cell phones and car keys were still in the foyer.

"Can't get far without those," Sara observed when Nick pointed them out. "It would also seem to eliminate robbery as a motive."

"Yeah," Nick agreed. 

Sara walked away from the foyer and blood pools, heading back toward the living room. Heavy footsteps behind her signaled the arrival of Warrick and Greg. After the initial greetings had been exchanged, Warrick headed upstairs to process the second floor, while Greg went back outside to begin working the perimeter.

Sara looked at Nick, who was still staring at the blood on the stairs. "Are you okay?" she asked gently. 

He seemed to rouse himself from some very deep thoughts. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Sara asked, looking at him closely. 

"I was just thinking …"

"What?" Sara asked. 

Nick shook his head. "Nothing."

Sara looked at him intently for another moment. "You're concerned about not having bodies, aren't you?"

"A bit," Nick said noncommittally. 

"Like you said, their cars, keys, cell phones and wallets are here," Sara said. "It doesn't look good for them."

Nick nodded. "I know. Okay, I'll start documenting the blood evidence. These footprints are going to take forever."

Sara nodded. "I'll go get their shoes for comparison."

After spending literally hours documenting the bloody footprints that littered the first floor, Sara and Nick were able to determine that one shoeprint belonged to Jude McBride, the owner of the house, and that a trail of bare footprints belonged to his wife. They were not able to match any prints to Jeremy or Cassie, the McBride children; Sara theorized that they had been killed first. 

Of the remaining footprints, only one set went up the stairs. Nick offered to follow it.

"Nick?" Sara said, looking at him carefully.

"Yeah?" he asked, stopping with one foot already on the stairs. 

"You're really sure you're okay?"

He gave a slight shrug. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," Sara said. "It's just … you seem a little … off."

"I'm fine, Sar," he said. "I'll go see what could have been upstairs that was so interesting to Mr. Size Eleven."

Sara smiled slightly. "I'll go have a look around in the kitchen."

The kitchen looked, as one of Sara's foster mothers would have said, as though a tornado had ripped through it. Every drawer and cupboard was open, most missing the majority of their contents. Someone had wanted something very badly from this house – and Sara had no idea if it had been found. 

She had been fingerprinting for quite some time when Greg came in from outside. He walked into the kitchen just as Sara came across a chore calendar full of sparkly star stickers. Thankful for a reason to stop inhaling print dust, she studied the calendar for a moment.

"I think I figured out when all this happened," she said as Greg approached. "Cassie never got to her Saturday morning chores." She paused, staring at the calendar. "I was really into gold stars when I was a kid," she confided. 

"As opposed to now?" Greg asked innocently. 

Sara looked at him for a moment, then frowned slightly as she walked away. Greg chuckled as he turned to study the chore chart. His gaze went lower than hers; he pulled the McBrides' bills from a mail sorter.

"Whoa," he exclaimed as he read their electric bill. "The McBrides must have a broken meter. Even if they left every light on day and night, it wouldn't add up to two thousand dollars. Maybe Brass can check it out."

Sara cleared her throat, fighting the urge to cough. "I think this print dust is getting to me," she said. "Would you mind finishing the fridge?"

"Do I get a gold star?" Greg asked as she walked past him.

"Ha ha ha," she said sarcastically.

Greg grinned and picked up the printing supplies she had left out. Looking around the nearly blackened kitchen surfaces, he could see why the dust had started to get to her. 

Sara walked out of the kitchen, following yet another trail of bloody footprints. This one led her to a door that had clearly once been padlocked. Judging by its current appearance, the padlock had been shot off. She opened the door slowly, slightly fearful of what she might find downstairs. Sudden, unbidden memories of descending into a backyard shed to find two starved little boys filled her mind. She willed the memories away, and started down the stairs. 

She hit the landing and stopped in utter shock. Thousands of watts of light burned cheerfully, providing heat and faux daylight for one very unique garden.

"Greg," she called. "I found something."

He was there in an instant. "Is it the bodies?" he asked eagerly, descending the stairs to join her. 

"No."

"Whoa," Greg breathed, taking in the sight of thousands of dollars worth of growing marijuana. He brushed past Sara to slowly walk down the last few steps. "Sweet mary jane. The emerald city."

"Explains the two thousand dollar electric bill," Sara said, stepping down behind him. "And all the footprints throughout the house."

"It's a ganja graveyard," Greg said.

"No," Sara contradicted, "it's motive."

"Yeah, it is," Greg agreed. "So, we're looking for a couple of potheads?"

"Judging by the footprints, three of them."

"And, they had to know that this was here, right?"

"Definitely," Sara said. "They practically pulled the house apart looking for it! I'm not sure they knew how much was here, though … I doubt they would have looked in kitchen cupboards for an entire marijuana garden."

Greg finally began to laugh. "This is utterly ridiculous! You should hear that sheriff talk about the McBrides – wonderful family, pillars of the community. They're growing enough marijuana to keep the entire high school happy in the basement of their house! Pillars of the community, my ass."

Sara smiled and shook her head. "We all have secrets, Greg."

"Yeah, but not all of them are illegal," he replied. "We've got to get Nick and Warrick down here. They're never going to believe this one!"

They went back up the stairs, calling for Nick and Warrick as they reached the first floor. They appeared on the stairs, both holding pieces of evidence. 

"What's up?" Nick asked. 

"We found something pretty major," Sara said. "You both will want to see it."

"Where?" Warrick asked. 

"Basement," Greg replied. 

Nick and Warrick exchanged a look. 

"Did you find the bodies?" Nick asked. 

"No," Greg grinned. "But, it's still worth a look."

"All right," Warrick said slowly. 

He and Nick put down their evidence bags and descended the stairs. They followed Sara and Greg to the basement door, which Greg held open for them.

"After you," he said cheerfully. 

Exchanging another look, Nick and Warrick started down the stairs. As Sara and Greg had done, they stopped at the landing, staring in shock at the scene before them.

"What the hell?" Nick exclaimed, stepping slowly down the remaining stairs. 

"What are these people, the neighborhood drug lords?" Warrick asked, following Nick. 

"So it would appear," Sara said. 

"Well, I think we've got the 'why' of this case," Warrick said. 

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "And, that's a lot more than we had a few minutes ago." He looked around, still stunned. He cleared his throat. "Well, everyone, I think we need to start documenting."

* * *

Upon learning of the wealth of evidence they had collected, and how far they still had to go in the case, Ecklie agreed to send a lab tech to Pioche to bring their evidence back to Vegas. This would save the team from sacrificing a CSI to the round trip drive between their crime scene to the lab. Nick organized the evidence and presented it to the tech he vaguely recognized from the day shift, who seemed rather excited to be out of the lab for the day. 

While the family's marijuana supply had likely led to their deaths, it also was the thing that had alerted the authorities to the fact that a crime had been committed. After tracing Mr. McBride's cell phone records, Nick discovered that he had quite a few missed calls from the same number who had phoned in the murders. 

Sara accompanied Sheriff Brackett to interview the doctor who had called 911. The only thing that came out of the interview was the sheriff's increased feeling of ineptitude. He was still beating himself up as he and Sara walked out of the clinic.

"This has been going on for years," he said. "Jude McBride, selling marijuana to my daughter's doctor." He shook his head. "It makes me truly doubt my ability to do my job. These two men made me look like a fool."

Sara shook her head. "We can't suspect everyone, or we'd end up living in bubbles," she said. "We all make mistakes, Sheriff."

"Yeah," he agreed with another shake of his head. "I'll see you later, Sara. Let me know if you turn up anything else."

"Will do," she said, climbing back into her SUV.

Sara made it back to the house, where Nick was sitting on the porch, reading over his notes. She smiled as she walked toward him.

"Hey," she said. "Where are Greg and Warrick?"

"Food run," he said. "They're bringing back lunch for all of us."

"Fantastic." Sara sat down next to him. "I'm starving."

"How did it go with the good doctor?"

"Well, it made me a bit nervous about ever having surgery again," Sara grinned. "I don't like the idea of doctors smoking up."

"So, he was a customer?"

"Yeah. He came to make a purchase, and saw all the blood through the windows. That's when he called 911."

"Well, a doctor does take an oath to save lives," Nick said. "I guess he did his part."

Sara shook her head. "If that's what it takes to help him sleep at night, so be it."

Nick's phone began to ring; he pulled it from his belt and flipped it open.

"Stokes. Oh, hi, Catherine."

Nick fell silent for what felt like ages, listening to Catherine talk. His eyes opened wide.

"Oh, I'm not sure I'd call him a _friend_," he said. "More of a business associate." He paused. "No, nothing like that. I'll go talk to him, though. Thanks, Cath. … Yeah, we will. … Bye."

Sara looked at Nick with raised eyebrows as he closed his phone. He smiled at her.

"Did Warrick tell you about Jeremy McBride's little business?"

Sara shook her head. 

"Well, it would appear that Jeremy made quite the name for himself as a brain for hire," Nick explained. "He was writing term papers for his classmates and selling them for at least a hundred dollars a pop."

"Whoa," Sara said. "I didn't realize you could make that much by doing someone else's homework."

"Apparently, you can. One of his best customers was Mark Horvatin. Interestingly enough, the only fingerprint that Catherine was able to identify was Mark's. She said it was from the kitchen, and not in blood."

Sara closed her eyes. "I practically gave myself black lung printing that kitchen, and only _one_ print could be identified?"

"Hey, it could be the one that counts," Nick said, standing up. "I'm going to call the sheriff and see if we can't track Mr. Horvatin down."

* * *

Nick and Brackett found Mark at baseball practice after school. Not surprisingly, he was wearing new shoes. Nick did find it a bit odd that he stored his baseball gear in the backseat of his car, rather than in the trunk. When he commented on it, Mark said that it was easier. 

Nick looked at the teenager, knowing in an instant that he was hiding something. "Parking lot still school property?" he asked the sheriff.

"Yup," Brackett nodded. 

"Why don't you go ahead and pop the trunk for me?"

Mark looked from Nick to Brackett with panic in his eyes. 

"Go ahead," Brackett nodded with a half smile. 

Mark slowly opened the trunk, which was full of garbage bags. Nick felt a surge of something like adrenaline. At least one body could be covered by those bags. He pulled on a pair of gloves and opened the first bag.

He didn't find a body. It was full of marijuana. 

They officially had a suspect.

* * *

"Sidle."

"Sara," Nick said, excitement in his voice, "we're getting somewhere."

"What happened?" Sara asked. "Did Mark confess?"

"No, but I did find some pretty damning evidence in his trunk."

"Okay …"

"The kid's driving around with a trunk full of pot."

"The pot from the house?" Sara asked. 

"It's gotta be. There's no way he could have gotten that much marijuana anywhere else."

"What did he have to say for himself?"

"Nothing, yet. He's being taken to PD right now for questioning. Want to come and watch with me?"

"I'd love to," Sara grinned. 

"Bring Warrick and Greg along," Nick continued. "They're towing his car to the garage at PD for us to process."

"Perfect."

* * *

In the end, Sara was wrong. It wasn't perfect. Mark refused to talk, and his father, who was an attorney, challenged their search and seizure, stating that, although on school property, they lacked probable cause to search his car. 

"I thought being a high schooler was probable cause enough," Greg said, bagging the piece of gum he had found in the backseat of the car. 

"It usually is," Nick said. "I'm sure this is all just posturing, and we'll be allowed to use evidence gleaned from the search. But, for now, we need to stop."

"So, the kid didn't give up anything?" Warrick asked. 

"Not a word," Sara said as she joined them. "Brackett had him in there for ages, too."

"What did you two find?" Nick asked. 

"Well, I matched the trash bags from the car to the bags from the house, which proves that the marijuana was from the McBrides' basement."

"I found an ATM receipt and some gum in the car," Greg added. 

"Gum?" Nick asked, frowning slightly.

"It's the same gum I found in the driveway at the house," Greg explained. "It could prove … something."

"Well, I guess we're getting somewhere," Nick said.

"Right," Warrick agreed. "We've got a kid who was clearly at the house and stole the pot, and who had to have had had a gun to be able to shoot the lock off the basement door. He could have used that same gun to kill the McBrides."

"Remember, guys, without bodies, we have no proof that they were murdered," Nick said.

Sara looked at him closely. "Nicky, come on. There's no way they're alive. Not with the amount of blood in that house."

Nick sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "All right. Let's just … get some sleep. We'll get started on this again tomorrow morning."

* * *

They began the morning with a picnic breakfast in the park and a phone call from Catherine, who had analyzed the blood evidence and photos they had sent her. Nick stepped away from the table to take the call while the others continued eating and discussing the case. He returned only a few moments later. 

"DNA confirmed to everyone _but_ Cassie," he said, referring to the McBrides' ten-year-old daughter.

"Interesting," Sara commented. 

"Mm-hm," Nick replied. 

Warrick proposed the theory that Jeremy, in an effort to shed his geeky, uncool image, had invited Mark over, enticing him with the promise of marijuana. Sara nodded her agreement; looking around, she saw Nick and Greg nodding, too. She was sure that they all could sympathize with the brainy teenager. What was supposed to be an attempt at making friends had gone horrible wrong, though, when Mark or one of his other friends had brought a gun to the party.

They were continuing their discussion of the case when Sheriff Brackett appeared with a basketful of muffins. He gave them his usual half-smile.

"Morning," he said in greeting. "My wife made muffins."

"Thank you," Sara said, taking the basket from him and grabbing a muffin.

"Welcome," he replied. "We got a lead on the ATM. The account belongs to Jim Locke. He's got a son named Peter; same age as Mark." He reached into the paper bag he was carrying. "Pulled some surveillance footage. It's a little grainy; can't see much."

Warrick took the offered tape. "I'll give it over to Archie and see if he can clean it up. Thanks."

"All right," Brackett replied. "I'll be in the car waiting when you guys are ready."

"All right. Thank you," Nick said. 

They all nodded their agreement, and Brackett took his leave. Greg grinned at Warrick. 

"Feeling a little homesick, there?"

"Wanna draw straws?" Warrick asked. 

"Nope," Greg said with a shake of his head. 

"Call me if you need me," Warrick said, getting up from the table. 

"All right," Nick agreed. 

"All right," Sara said as Warrick walked away. "Let's head over to the Lockes' house and see what we can find."

Greg immediately put his trash together and stood up. He was on his way to the car before Sara could do more than stand up. She looked at Nick, who was still in his seat, again with the pensive look on his face. 

"You coming?" she asked, studying him for what felt like the hundredth time since they had begun their case.

"No," Nick said. "No, you go ahead. I'll catch up."

Sara tilted her head as she realized what was going through Nick's mind – what had been going through his mind since first arriving on the scene. "You think she's alive." 

Nick nodded. "You don't?"

Sara opened her mouth to reply, but found herself without words.

"None of her blood was found in the house," Nick said. 

"I think she was drugged." Sara took off her sunglasses to look Nick in the eye. "And … she was lucky if all they did after that was kill her."

"I don't think she was drugged," Nick argued. "She's a smart little girl. She hid that cough medicine in her shoe; that's like … hiding green beans in your napkin," he finished with a grin. 

"I hope you're right," Sara said. "But, everything in our experience tells us they're dead, all four of them."

"Doesn't mean we just give up."

"No one's giving up. It's just that … you're acting like you're going to rescue a person, not recover a body, and on this job … that's just not usually the case."

"I was rescued," Nick said simply, shrugging and looking up at her with eyes full of innocent hope and gratitude. 

"It was not your day to die," Sara said. "When it's your day … it's your day. You know?"

"I don't think it was Cassie's day."

Sara looked at him wordlessly for a minute. "Nicky …"

"Please, Sara," he said. "Please, don't think that she's dead. And, don't ask me to think it, either. I just … I can't believe that she is."

"Nicky, you don't owe it to the universe to save someone like you were saved," she said. "If you can, that's wonderful. But, you can't make it your life's mission to do for someone as we did for you. As far as I'm concerned, you've been paying it forward for years. The universe owed you."

"Well, then maybe it's time for me to start letting the universe wrack up a new debt against me," he said. "You'd better go. Greg will leave without you if you don't hurry."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will," he promised. 

With one last lingering look, Sara followed Greg to the waiting SUV. He grinned as he saw her approaching.

"I'm driving, slow poke," he called. 

"All right," Sara agreed.

Greg frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You didn't even argue."

Sara sighed. "Just get in the car, Greg."

His smile returned. "Now, _that's_ the bossy Sara that I know and love."

Sara frowned. "I'm not bossy."

Laughing, Greg climbed into the driver's seat. "Yeah. Right."

* * *

Mrs. Locke admitted that Peter and his friends had taken the boat out on Friday night. She said that they wanted to go sailing one last time before it got too cold. She also gave permission for Sara and Greg to look at the boat. Her main concern was that the boys had been drinking. Sara shook her head as she and Greg climbed onto the boat. Some parents could be so blind.

"Well, we know that the boat was in the McBrides' driveway," Greg said as they began their search. "The plant material from the lake that I found in both places and the tire treads tell us that much."

"Right," Sara agreed, shining her flashlight along the floorboards. She sighed. "Explain to me why there's no blood here. That house was full of it, and there's no way that those bodies were blood-free by the time they got them on this boat."

"I don't know," Greg said, shaking his head. He frowned as he noticed a piece of gum on the floor. "What is up with all the gum in this case?"

"Huh?"

He picked up the wrapped gum, holding it up for Sara to see. "This is the third piece of gum that I've found. One was in the driveway and another was in the car. It's always the same brand."

Sara shrugged. "So, we're looking for a gum-chewing pothead. Considering he's also likely a high schooler, that's huge. Good job, Greg. I'd have to call that a case breaker."

Greg grinned. "You know, your optimism never ceases to amaze me. Oh, wait. Did I say optimism? I meant sarcasm."

"Oh, you're a funny one."

They continued working, occasionally exchanging comments. Sara uncovered a roll of trash bags, which could have been used to wrap the bodies, explaining the lack of blood on the boat. She jumped down to put the trash bags with their other evidence when her phone started to ring. She picked it up, reading Nick's name on the display.

"Hey," she said cheerfully. 

"Hey," he replied. "Sara, did you find any gum on that boat? Any gum at all? Wrapped, unwrapped? Anywhere?"

"Yeah," she said slowly. "How did you know that?"

"I think Cassie was on that boat," he said, "_alive_. I think she was leaving us a trail of gum … gum drops. In the driveway … in the car … one the boat. It's like 'Hansel and Gretel.' Half the pictures I've seen her in, she's chewing gum."

"Nick, that's a bit of a stretch," Sara said. "A lot of people chew gum."

"You tell Sheriff Brackett I'll meet you at the station," Nick said.

"Are you sure?" Sara asked, growing more and more concerned for her friend's mental balance.

"Of course, I'm sure. You'll come, too, won't you?"

"Yeah," Sara said. "Yeah, I'll be there."

* * *

Sara and Nick stood together in the Pioche PD's idea of an observation room – a room adjacent to the interrogation room with a small, closed-circuit television that showed what was happening in the interrogation. After nearly half an hour of watching the sheriff trying to convince Peter Locke to tell him what had happened, Sara was beginning to give up hope. 

"I think it's going to come down to the forensics on this one," she said. "These kids aren't talking."

"You may be right on that," Nick agreed. "Stupid kids," he added.

"Yeah," Sara sighed. "There has not been one bright move in any of this."

They lapsed back into silence, watching the interrogation. The sound of Nick's PDA seemed loud as it beeped to alert him to a new message. He picked it up and began tapping at the screen. 

He stared at it for a moment, the color slowly draining from his face. Alarmed by the sudden anger that flashed in his eyes, Sara took the device from him. Archie had sent him an image from the ATM footage. Her eyes widened as she recognized the very much alive form of Cassie McBride sleeping in the arms of Peter Locke.

Sara had barely registered what she was seeing when Nick tore out of the observation room. He burst into the interrogation room, yelling angrily at Peter. Sara ran in after him, watching in shock as Nick grabbed Peter by his shirt and pulled him out of his chair.

"You're gonna answer me right now!" Nick yelled, slamming Peter against a wall. "No more screwing around! Where is she?"

Brackett stepped up behind Sara. She looked at him, completely at a loss as to what they should do. She had never seen Nick like this in all the years they had worked together. 

"Where is she?" Nick asked again as tears began to leak from Peter's terrified eyes. "Where is she?"

"Nicky," Sara finally said quietly. 

Nick seemed to come back into himself; he released Peter, letting him slide down the wall. Peter sank all the way to the floor, where he pulled his knees up to his chest. 

"We … took the boat … out on the lake," he said shakily. 

"We're gonna need more than that," Nick spat. 

"She was with us," Peter nearly whispered. 

Nick twitched as though he would go after Peter again; Sara put her hand on his arm. The gesture was enough to calm him. With a half-glance at her, he exhaled slowly. 

"If I bring you a map, will you tell me where you launched the boat?" Brackett asked. 

Peter nodded slowly. 

"Okay," the sheriff said. He glanced at Sara.

She nodded, and tightened her grip on Nick's arm. "Come on, Nick. Let's go call the search and … rescue divers." She didn't dare suggest that they call search and recovery. She wasn't sure what it would do to him.

Nick nodded and allowed her to lead him from the room. 

"Nick," Sara said quietly once they were outside the interrogation room.

"We need to get as many uniforms out there as we can," he said. "And, like you said, we'll need divers. We'll also need to interview any witnesses who may have seen them leaving with Cassie."

"Yeah," Sara agreed, realizing that anything she said to him would be useless. "Okay. Let's get to work."

* * *

In the heat of the race to the lake, Sara started to wonder if she'd ever have a chance to talk to Nick. She didn't want to browbeat him or to reprimand him. Rather, she wanted to make sure that he understood that he had gone too far and crossed a line that he normally never even approached. 

Finally, she decided that she'd just have to make time. As she stood on the pier, watching the search and rescue boat preparations, Nick approached her.

"Okay," he called as he drew closer. "My guess is that the guys stopped at the ATM to get cash for gas. That's cash only." He indicated the area's only gas pump. "Eddie over there says he filled the tank to the top Friday night."

Sara nodded, clearly only half hearing him. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?"

Sara began to walk away from the police officers. "I think I need to talk about what happened at the station."

"Oh," Nick said with dawning understanding, nodding.

"I'm slightly concerned about its affect on the case, but, more than that, I'm concerned about the case's affect on you, Nick, and I'm absolutely sure that six months ago, you wouldn't have lost it like that."

"I know. I'm sorry," Nick said. "I apologize for that."

It wasn't much, but it was enough. Hoping that she wasn't making a mistake, Sara returned their conversation to the case. "How much gas was left?"

Nick smiled, pleased that she was ready to work again. He explained how much gas was left, and how far they had likely traveled. 

"Come on," he said, leading the way to the waiting boat. 

Sara took a step to follow him, and felt her shoe stick. She looked down to find a wrapped piece of gum stuck to her shoe. She pulled it off in wonder. Maybe Nick had been right all along. 

"Nick," she said. 

"Yeah?"

She held up the gum for him to see. His face almost fell. 

"They threw her off the boat?" he nearly whispered. 

Sara stepped closer and touched his arm. "Don't give up on her," she said. "Not when we've come this far."

Nick smiled. "You're right. Let's go find her."

* * *

It wasn't Cassie that the divers found. Sara and Nick rode along as they took the boat out the three miles that the odometer told them had been traveled. It was there that the divers recovered the bodies of Jude, Nina and Jeremy McBride. They had all been thrown to the bottom of the lake with weights tied to them to keep them in their final resting place. 

After photographing the bodies, Sara and Nick sent them back to Vegas. Doc Robbins would examine them, and Warrick would collect any evidence. 

Warrick's analysis of the bullets found in the bodies led them to their third suspect. Luke Daniels had "borrowed" his father's gun to take with them when they went to get the marijuana from Jeremy on that fateful night.

Her search of Luke's person and the house provided Sara with the gun, bloody shoes and a bloody knife. She nearly gasped when she discovered the knife. Suddenly, it seemed likely that Cassie had not been shot. Rather, her throat had been slit.

Feeling an odd mixture of triumph and sadness, Sara returned to Nick and the waiting car. She presented the evidence she had collected, then climbed in beside him.

They rode in silence for several moments before Sara spoke. 

"You do realize –"

"I know what this means," Nick said, cutting her off. He exhaled slowly. "Can you take care of Luke at PD?"

"Yeah, sure," Sara said. "But, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going back out that lake."

"Nick …"

"Look, Sara, I know what could have happened," he said. "I also know that it's only one possibility. And, what I _definitely_ know is that until we find her, Cassie is out in that lake, all alone. Whether she's dead or alive, that's no way to leave a little girl."

"Okay," Sara said quietly. "Okay. Call me if you find anything."

* * *

Like his co-conspirators, Luke wasn't talking. As much as Sara tried to get the full story out of him, he sat in stony silence, letting her paint pictures of what must have happened. Her frustration with these teenagers was mounting by the minute. At least Peter showed some remorse for his actions. Of course, as Cassie's swim coach, he had had more contact with the family than the others. 

Sara was nearly ready to give up and bring in Brackett to try to convince Luke to talk when her phone rang. She looked at Luke as she picked it up. 

"You are so lucky this is distracting me," she said. 

He didn't even blink.

Sara looked at the screen, and saw Nick's name on the display. "Hi, Nick."

"Sara!" he exclaimed. "Sara, we found her!"

"You what?" she said, getting out of her seat and walking away from Luke.

"We found Cassie! She washed up on the shore of the lake."

"Is she …?"

"She's alive!" he exclaimed. When he continued, his voice was a little shaky. "You should see her, Sar – she's still holding a package of gum."

"Okay," Sara said. "I'm on my way, Nick. Don't leave the scene till I get there."

"We'll be waiting for you."

Sara closed her phone and rushed down the hall. She ran into Brackett in the reception area.

"Nick found Cassie," she said without preamble. "I'm going to meet him at the lake."

"He found her?" the sheriff exclaimed. 

"I know," Sara said. "It's incredible, isn't it? He said she's still alive."

Brackett exhaled slowly. "Well, then, these boys are only facing three counts of murder and one count of attempted murder."

Sara shook her head. "All over some stupid pot."

"Yeah." He shook his head again. "You go get Cassie. I'll …" He paused and swallowed. "I'll find her next of kin."

Sara nodded, an incredible sadness filling her. Little Cassie had lost so much.

* * *

Nick was kneeling next to Cassie when Sara arrived at the scene. He was holding his camera in his hands, but not taking pictures. Sara approached him from behind and put her hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey," he said, glancing up at her. 

"Are you okay?" Sara asked. 

"Yeah," he replied. He finally snapped a picture. "The paramedics are en route. They were a little farther away than you."

"How do you think she's doing?"

"She has a pulse, and her breathing is even. I'd say she's going pretty well … considering." He brushed her hair back from her face. "She's one tough little girl."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. She took the camera from Nick's hands, and began documenting the scene. She noticed the gum in Cassie's hand, and took several pictures of it. "Looks like you were right about the 'Hansel and Gretel' thing."

Nick nodded. "She was Gretel in her school play," he said. "I saw the pictures in her room."

The paramedics finally arrived, and Sara and Nick stepped back to allow them to do their jobs. Sara looked at Nick.

"Do you want to go to the hospital to collect trace, or should I?"

Nick blinked. "Trace?"

"Trace evidence," Sara said gently. "We need to make sure we build a tight case."

Nick nodded slowly. "Could … could you do it?"

"Yeah," Sara said. "No problem."

* * *

Sara took Nick back to the hotel, where Greg was sorting their most recent evidence. Nick went to work with him, clearly thankful to have something to occupy his mind. 

Once she was sure that Greg would keep an eye on Nick, Sara went to the hospital. Cassie was still unconscious, so there was no chance of getting any sort of statement from her. Sara merely collected trace and photo documented her injuries. 

"We're going to need to talk to her later," she told a nurse.

The nurse nodded. "I figured as much. Leave me your cell number, and we'll call you when she's ready."

"Thanks," Sara said, handing over her business card. "We'll be in touch."

* * *

By the time Sara had arrived back at the hotel, Nick and Greg had finished sorting evidence and were watching tv. Greg appeared to be very interested in the sitcom on the screen, but Nick was staring at the television with blank eyes. 

"Hey, Greg, can you come and help me with something?" Sara asked. 

"Yeah, sure," he said, following her into the hall. 

"Nick, we'll be right back."

"Okay."

Sara led Greg into her room, right across the hall from the room he and Nick shared, and closed the door behind them. Greg looked at her quizzically. 

"What do you need?"

"I need you to take the evidence we've collected back to Vegas," she said. "The quicker we can get everything in, the quicker we can take these boys to trial."

"Okay," Greg said slowly. "Why don't we all just go back, then? We've got everything we need."

"We still need a statement from Cassie," Sara said. "And, somehow, I think that Nick needs to see her again – to know that she's okay."

Greg nodded slowly. "Is he okay, Sara? He seems …"

"I'll stay with him," she said. "I know that he'll talk to me."

"Yeah," Greg said. "I'm not sure he'd talk to me."

Sara nodded. "So, you'll take everything back to the lab?"

"Yeah. I'll leave in the morning."

"Good. Hopefully, we'll be able to talk to Cassie tomorrow and be on our way by evening."

* * *

The nurse called Sara while she and Nick were eating breakfast the next morning.

"She's awake," she said excitedly. "She's doing really well. She's still having some trouble talking, but she's alert and totally coherent."

"Thank goodness," Sara said. "Okay. We'll be over soon."

"I'll let her know."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Sara closed her phone and turned to Nick with a bright smile. "Cassie's awake," she said. "The nurse says she's doing well."

Nick's face relaxed into a grin. "Can we see her?"

"They're waiting for us."

He put his fork and knife down on his plate. "Well, then, let's go!"

* * *

Sara drove to the hospital. Nick seemed nearly ready to jump out of his skin; he tossed her the keys as they walked to the car. They were both silent during the drive, each lost in thought. 

Sara parked in the visitors' section, and they made their way inside. In contrast to the night Nick had been found, it was Sara who remembered the directions to Cassie's room, and Sara who led her friend through the maze of hallways. 

Nick's breath caught as they approached her room. They could see Cassie through the windows, sitting up in bed and coloring. Sara looked at Nick.

"Do you want me to do this?"

He shook his head, blinking back tears. "No," he said in a choked voice. "I'll do it."

Sara nodded. 

"Do you mind … I'd like to go alone."

She nodded again. "I'll wait out here."

It was over an hour before Nick emerged from Cassie's room. His eyes were full of tears as he approached Sara, clutching the thank you card that Cassie had made for him. Knowing that he was fighting for control, she didn't say a word to him. Rather, she slipped her hand into his. He glanced down at their joined hands for a moment, then gripped hers tightly, letting her lead him out of the hospital.

* * *

They didn't speak until they were on their way back to Vegas. It was Nick who broke the silence in the SUV.

"She saw the whole thing," he said. "Can you imagine? She'll have to live with those images for the rest of her life."

"I'm just glad she has the rest of her life to live," Sara said. "The nurse told me that her aunt is coming to get her. She'll have family to support her."

"Thank God."

Sara paused, choosing her words carefully. "Nick … I'm sorry I ever doubted you. I'm sorry I didn't go along with what you said about Cassie being alive from the very beginning."

Nick shook his head. "I know why you thought she was dead," he said. "Like you said, everything we know told us that she had died."

"But, you didn't believe our experience."

He shrugged. "Like I said, Sar … I was rescued. You know, spending all that time in that box, buried alive, knowing that there was nothing I could do … I had two choices. I could either give in and use that gun against myself, or I could hope and pray that you would find me. I chose to hope. And, it worked out. You guys found me. You rescued me. You proved to me that hope is the way to go."

Tears filled Sara's eyes as she listened to Nick. He had never spoken about his abduction before – at least, not to her. "We couldn't give up on you, Nicky. We _had_ to find you."

He nodded. "That's how I felt about her."

Sara swallowed and reached across to squeeze his hand. "She's lucky she had you to look for her."

"I'm lucky I had all of you to look for me."


	40. Becoming Ordinary

A/N: After the rather emotionally intense last chapter, I thought something a little lighter was in order. I hope you like this little bit of "down time" – things will get intense again in the next chapter.

I also hope you're enjoying my last couple days of spring break, which have allowed me the time to get this done so quickly! I'm back to work on Tuesday, though, so don't expect another update until next weekend.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration comes from episode 606, "Secrets and Flies."

* * *

_Becoming Ordinary_

It was late when Sara finally pulled into the crime lab parking lot. She parked the SUV in its assigned space and turned to look at Nick.

"Are you on tonight?"

He shook his head. "You?"

"No." She paused. "Do you want to go get dinner?"

Nick was quiet for a moment, giving her suggestion an undue amount of consideration. "Yeah," he said at last. "Yeah, let's do that."

Sara smiled. "Come on. I'll drive."

Nodding, Nick climbed out of the SUV and followed Sara to her car.

"Sara?" he said as she buckled her seat belt.

"Hm?"

He smiled. "Thanks."

She smiled back. "Anytime."

* * *

Greg was the first person Sara saw when she entered the lab for her shift the next day. His face lit up when he saw her.

"You're back!"

She laughed. "Greg, it's been less than two days since you last saw me."

He shrugged. "It's not the same without you."

"Oh, thank God," Catherine said as she came down the hall toward them. "I was beginning to think you'd never get back."

"What, Warrick and Greg aren't good enough for you?" Sara teased.

"If Ecklie would let me use Greg in the field, they would be."

Sara looked at Greg in alarm. "Why aren't you allowed out in the field?"

Greg made a face. "Remember how Mia got engaged and moved in Minnesota?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, apparently, we're the only two DNA techs in the entire country. Ecklie hasn't managed to replace her yet, so I'm back in DNA."

"_For now_," Catherine said. "We'll replace her, Greg. Don't worry."

"Yeah," Greg sighed. "Tell me that when _you've_ been stuck in the lab for …"

"What?" Sara grinned. "Two days?"

"It has been an eternity," Catherine nodded. "I can see why he's starting to lose it."

"You know what? I hate working with women. I'm going back to my lab."

Sara and Catherine both laughed as Greg stalked away from them.

"So, everything worked out for you guys out in the boonies?"

Sara smiled. "Yeah, we wrapped it all up. Did Nick turn in our report?"

"I haven't seen him yet. I'm sure I'll get it when he gets here."

"Yeah."

"We've got a busy night, so I'm going to give you your assignment now," Catherine said.

"Eek. Busy night, no Greg and no Grissom. We're definitely running shorthanded."

"Which is why you're running solo," Catherine said, handing her an assignment slip. "I've got a rape, a home invasion, and two homicides. Which would you like?"

"I'll take a homicide."

"How did I guess?" Catherine handed over the assignment slip with a smile.

Sara smiled. "I guess I'm predictable."

"If you need help, give me a call. I'm sure that we can pull Greg from DNA to work a homicide."

"But, I thought he was in DNA on Ecklie's orders."

"Yeah, well, Ecklie is just going to have to deal."

Sara grinned. "I like the way you work."

Catherine smiled. "Enjoy your homicide, Sara."

"Oh, I'll do my best."

* * *

Sara's homicide wasn't easy, but it was simple enough that she didn't need help. It wasn't something that she could solve in one shift, but, after working a shift and a half, she decided that it was time to call it a day. The body would still be in the morgue when her next shift started.

"Hey, Sara. You're here late."

"So are you," Sara replied, smiling at Nick as he came down the hall toward her.

"I'm leaving now," he said.

"Me, too."

"Do you want to go grab some lunch?"

"I'd love to," Sara replied. "I didn't have time for breakfast."

Nick shook his head. "How could you skip the most important meal of the day?"

"Hey, when Brass tells me to go with him to interrogate a suspect, I go to interrogate the suspect."

Nick laughed. "All right, Miss Over-achiever. Let's go get you some food. This time, I'll drive."

"Where are we going?" Sara asked as they walked out into the parking lot together.

"There's a new place that just opened not far from here," Nick replied. "They serve food that will please both vegetarians and carnivores – or, so their ad says."

"It actually says that?"

"Well, maybe not _just_ like that, but that's pretty much the gist of it."

"So, going there is more than just getting lunch. It's a 'truth in advertising' check," Sara said as they got into his car.

"Exactly."

"Well, then, drive on."

Nick laughed and reversed out of his parking space. "As my lady wishes."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Was that really necessary?"

Nick laughed again. "Let's go have lunch."

The restaurant was crowded when they arrived, which they took to mean that the food was good. After waiting for nearly fifteen minutes, they were shown to a table and handed menus. They studied them in silence for a moment.

"What do you think?" Nick asked at last.

"I think they have a very diverse selection," Sara said. "You were right. This is food that will please both the vegetarian and the carnivore."

"This is good, considering that we have a representative of each group here."

Sara laughed. "Will I ever be able to convince you that it's wrong to eat meat? I mean, aside from the whole thing about eating an animal, it's just not that good for you."

"Sara, you're fighting a losing battle," Nick said. "I'm going to have to quote the bumper sticker that my sister will not let my brother-in-law put on their car: 'I didn't fight my way to the top of the food chain –'"

"Okay, okay, point made," Sara said, cutting him off. "I've seen and been offended by those stickers before."

Their waitress appeared to take their orders. After she left, they chatted about their cases for awhile – Nick had taken the home invasion that Catherine had mentioned.

"Talk about inept criminals," he said, shaking his head. "I actually managed to wrap the case already. How often does that happen?"

"Hey, take it and be glad," Sara said. "I've still got work to do on mine."

"Well, I'll give you a hand if I have time next shift," Nick promised.

"Thanks," Sara said.

"No problem."

Their food arrived, momentarily ending their conversation. Sara hadn't realized how hungry she was until she began to eat; she had to consciously remind herself to slow down and not shovel the food into her mouth.

"Look, Sar," Nick said, his voice almost uncharacteristically serious as he broke the silence, "I … um …"

Sara looked up at him, a flicker of concern in her eyes. "What's up, Nick?"

He gave her a small, almost nervous smile. "I just … I want to thank you."

"To thank me?" Sara asked blankly.

"Yeah," Nick said. "You were really a rock for me for this past week up in Pioche. I don't know if I would have made it through that case without you. You're right; it did hit me harder than it would have six months ago. I'm just … I'm glad I had you to talk to, and to keep me going in the right direction."

Sara smiled, her throat aching. "The 'thank you' isn't necessary, Nicky. I know that you would have done the same for me."

"All the same, I want you to know how much I appreciate what you did for me."

"Well, you're welcome."

* * *

After lunch, Nick drove Sara back to the lab. Calling good bye, she climbed out of his car and into hers. Finally, finally, she could go home. It suddenly felt like it had been years since she had been in her apartment.

Visions of showering and falling into bed danced through her head as she parked her car and climbed the steps to her unit. She fumbled with her keys for a moment before managing to open her door. Sighing with contentment, she stepped inside.

"Well, hello."

Sara stopped in the act of pulling her keys from the lock; they dropped to the floor. For seven seconds, she stood stock-still and stared at the man standing in her living room, her mouth slightly open.

"You're not happy to see me?" Grissom asked with a smile.

Finally getting over the initial shock of seeing him home earlier than anticipated, Sara's face lit up with a beaming smile. She rushed across the room and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck for a moment. He hugged her tightly as he pressed kisses against her hair.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, lifting her head to kiss his face again and again.

He laughed and hugged her all the tighter. "I managed to catch an earlier flight. I thought I'd surprise you."

"Well, I'm surprised."

"Pleasantly?"

Rather than answer his question verbally, Sara leaned up to kiss him properly, letting her lips slide over his in a slow, sensual "welcome home." She pulled back and looked up at him with twinkling eyes.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He grinned at her and kissed her again. "I think I feel very welcome."

"I told you I'd miss you."

"I don't know when you had time to miss me," he said with a teasing smile. "Catherine told me you and Nick just got home yesterday."

"When did you talk to Catherine?"

"I called her this morning to find out what I'd missed."

Sara frowned slightly. "You called Catherine, but not me?"

"Well, I wasn't trying to surprise Catherine," Grissom explained, leading Sara to her couch and pulling her down with him. "Now, tell me about your case. I want to hear all about it."

"It was …" She trailed off, struck by a sudden thought. "Oh!" She jumped up off the couch. "I almost forgot! I brought you a present."

"A present?" Grissom looked completely bewildered as she ran to the hall closet and pulled out a jacket.

"Yeah. I found it at a coffee shop in Pioche," Sara said, extracting the small bag from her jacket pocket. She rejoined him on the couch and offered the gift. "I didn't wrap it."

"I think I can forgive that," Grissom said, taking the plain, brown bag from her. He opened it and pulled out the magnet. He stared at the fornicating lady bugs for a moment, then burst into laughter. "You found this in a coffee shop?"

"Yeah," Sara grinned. "Do you like it?"

He nodded and leaned over to kiss her. "I'll give it a place of honor on my fridge. I love it. Thank you so much."

She grinned. "When I saw it, I knew I had to get it for you. I think the woman in the shop thought I was nuts, though."

Grissom chuckled, then smiled a bit sadly. "I just wish I had found something to make you smile while I was away."

Sara smiled in a bemused sort of way. "You don't need to bring me things. Just having you in my apartment is enough to make me smile."

Her words were simple and honest, but something in them struck a resounding chord in Grissom's heart. Unable to come up with anything to say – neither in his own words nor someone else's – he captured her lips with his again, drawing her into a kiss that said all his words could not.

* * *

Going back to work for the next shift was so much more exciting for Sara. The knowledge that Grissom would be there made all the difference.

The others, too, were glad to have their boss back. Greg nearly attacked him in the hall when he saw him.

"Grissom!"

"Hi, Greg," Grissom said, glancing up from the assignment slips in his hands.

"I'm so glad you're back."

Grissom looked surprised. "I wasn't aware I meant that much to you."

"Whatever. Look, Catherine and Ecklie have trapped me in DNA. You've got to get me out of here!"

"Greg …"

"Please, Grissom!" Greg begged. "I can't take this anymore! It's been about three days, and I'm already getting cabin fever. I need to get out on in the field again!"

"Look, Greg, I've got three interviews with potential DNA techs in the afternoon," Grissom said. "With any luck, you'll have two more weeks in the lab – max."

Greg's face fell. "Two _weeks_?"

"We have to assume that our new tech will want to put in two weeks' notice with his or her old job. I'm doing the best I can for you."

"I hate professional courtesy," Greg groaned as he moped his way back to the DNA lab.

Grissom shook his head as he entered the break room, where the rest of the team sat awaiting assignments. They, too, seemed happy to see him.

"Hi, everyone," he said. "Okay, I have assignments for you. Catherine, you and Nick are taking a homicide at the Mirage. Looks like it might be a trick roll."

Nick laughed. "How jealous is Greg right now?"

Warrick laughed with him. "I won't tell if you won't."

"You won't have time," Grissom said, passing him his own assignment. "I have an armed robbery for you."

"Ah, now _that_ sounds interesting," Warrick smiled.

"Sara, I'm going to help you finish your homicide," Grissom said. "Any questions?"

The team members took his query as a dismissal; they all stood to go to their respective destinations. Sara stayed in her seat, giving Grissom a coy smile.

"Don't you trust me to handle my own homicides anymore?"

"Don't you want me working with you?" he asked, giving her a wink.

"I suppose it'll work out …"

"I'm sure it will."

* * *

Things seemed to fall back into a routine. Grissom finally hired a new DNA tech, freeing Greg to return to the field. Sara worked with him on his first case; he was so excited that she almost felt like she had a new trainee all over again. It was rather exhausting.

The next night found her paired with Catherine on an apparent suicide that they quickly determined was not. The others on the team joined them as they finished their open investigations; even Grissom worked with them briefly until he was summoned away to refute another entomologist's testimony in court.

Sara and Warrick sat in the break room eating lunch and going over their case notes when Catherine walked in. She was shaking her head.

"Are you all right?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," she said. "This case just keeps getting stranger and stranger."

"Care to share?" Warrick asked.

"Well, it turns out that our vic doesn't share any DNA with her son – which means that she was most likely a surrogate mother."

"Aren't surrogates supposed to give the babies back?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Catherine said. She gave Sara a smile. "Have you met our new DNA tech yet?"

"No. Why?"

"Wendy, right?" Warrick asked.

"Yes, Wendy Simms," Catherine said. "She's from San Francisco, Sara. I thought that you might know her."

Sara shook her head slowly. "Did she work in the crime lab there?"

"Yeah." Catherine grinned as she finally sat down at the table with them, holding an apple she had procured from the fridge. "Why didn't you tell us that you started every day with a hug in San Francisco?"

Warrick choked on his sandwich. "Aw, Sara, you should have said something. I'll give you a hug every day, if that's what you need."

"Um, no," Sara laughed. "You know, she must have worked with George Fink. That man would hug anyone within his reach! He was on swing and I was on days, so I didn't see him all that much … thank goodness." She giggled. "In fact, our shift referred to him as 'The Hugger.'"

"Are you making this up?" Warrick asked in disbelief.

"Not at all. I sort of wish I was."

"Well, you should go introduce yourself to Wendy," Catherine encouraged, giving her a teasing smile. "She seems _very_ eager to make friends."

"Are you trying to tell me that this girl is nuts?"

"No, she doesn't seem nuts … well, no more than anyone else in this lab. I think she is very eager to fit in and get in on all the gossip, though."

Sara laughed. "Well, it sounds like she won't chase people out of her lab for sneezing like Mia did."

"Hey, so the girl was into hygiene," Warrick said. "You can't say that's a bad thing."

Sara stood up. "Well, I'm going to go meet Wendy. I'll let you know how it goes."

"Have fun – and, keep all your gossip about me to yourself!" Catherine called after her.

Sara made her way through the halls to the DNA lab. Wendy was by herself, reading over some reports. Sara arranged her face into a smile and stepped into the lab.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," Wendy echoed, looking up at her. She smiled politely. "I'm sorry. I have no idea who you are. Are you waiting on results?"

Sara grinned. "I'm Sara Sidle, and, no, I'm not waiting on anything. I just wanted to say hello and to introduce myself."

"Oh!" Wendy's face broke into a far more genuine smile. "Wendy Simms."

"Right," Sara said. "I just heard that you came to us from San Francisco."

"That's right."

"I used to work in the lab there," Sara said.

"Really?" she asked, her interested piqued. "How long ago?"

"Oh, wow, it's been six years since I left," Sara said. "I worked day shift with Carl Benson and Anne Davis."

"Oh, they're great!" Wendy exclaimed. "I worked swing, so I didn't have all that much contact with them, but I always loved it when I did. You were really lucky to work with them."

"Yeah, I think so, too. They were great mentors to me." She paused. "Well, I should get back to work, and let you get acquainted with your lab. If you need anything, or have any questions about the lab or anything else, let me know."

"Hey, thanks," Wendy said, giving her a bright smile. "It was really great to meet you."

"You, too."

Sara made her way back to the break room, where Catherine and Warrick were still discussing the case. They looked up as she walked in.

"Well? Did she hug you?"

"You guys are just being mean," Sara said, joining them at the table. "She's nice."

Catherine shrugged. "As long as she's good at her job, I'm happy. We've been working with Hodges and all of his strangeness for years. I think we can take a little more."

Warrick laughed. "This many science geeks under one roof? It's nothing _but_ strangeness here."

The women laughed with him, then turned back to the case notes.

Motion in the break room window caught Sara's eye. She looked up in time to see Grissom walk past, reading over a report as he headed to his office.

She smiled slightly. He may have some strange quirks, but one particular science geek was very sexy.


	41. Chaos

I don't own CSI

A/N: The next few chapters will be more case-driven than relationship-driven. I hope everyone is okay with that!

Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you like this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episodes 607, "A Bullet Runs Through It" part 1.

* * *

_Chaos_

"This is nice." Grissom smiled at Sara across his kitchen table as he folded his napkin over his now-empty plate.

"Yeah, it is," Sara said, using the last bite of pancake on her plate to scoop up as much syrup as possible. "Tell me again why we haven't seen each other outside of work all week?"

Grissom smiled. "I think it might have been because of five homicides, two multi-vehicle accidents and one arson. But, I could be wrong."

Sara giggled. "I guess I'll just be glad that we have today."

"Or, at least, that we have the time until our next shift starts."

"Always the optimist," Sara said, shaking her head.

"I prefer to be thought of as a realist," Grissom said.

"Whatever. Either way, you're bursting my bubble of happiness. Can't we just concentrate on _us_, instead of the next time we have to be at work?"

"I think I can handle that," Grissom said, giving her a warm smile. "What would you like to do today?"

"Well," Sara said with a smile, "first, I thought we could go to bed … and, maybe, even sleep a little."

Grissom's smile deepened. "Good start."

"Then, after we wake up, I thought that we could watch a movie. There's supposed to be a horror movie marathon on today."

"I thought you didn't like horror movies."

Sara grinned at him. "I do when I'm with you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that we watch this movie just so that you can snuggle up close to me and bury your face in my shoulder when you get scared?"

"Pretty much. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No. Not at all."

"Excellent. Then, after the movie, we'll have dinner."

"What are we having for dinner?"

"I haven't made it that far yet."

He laughed. "Well, you have a very full day mapped out for us. We'd better get started on your plans."

"Okay," Sara said, picking up her plate and heading to the sink.

Grissom followed with his own plate, pressing against her as he slid it into the basin. "Leave them."

"Why?"

"Because, dishes weren't on your list."

Sara turned to face him, sliding her arms up and around his neck. "Are you suggesting that we head straight for the bedroom?"

"I most certainly am."

Giggling, Sara let him lead the way.

* * *

_Ring_.

Jerked out of a dream, it took a moment for Sara to register where she was and what sound she was hearing. It wasn't until she heard Grissom's groggy, "hello," that she realized that she was in his bed, and that his cell phone had served as her alarm clock. Sighing, she snuggled down under the covers again, hoping that the caller wasn't going to take him away from her.

A moment later, he snapped his phone closed and leaned over to kiss her cheek. She sighed and turned to face him.

"You have to leave, don't you?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not," he said. "But, you know the job."

"Yeah, I do. Where are you going?"

He grimaced. "To a command post, actually."

"A command post? That doesn't sound good."

"No, it doesn't. I'm leaving now; I'll meet Catherine there. We'll probably need the rest of you, so don't go back to sleep, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed.

He rolled over and climbed out of bed. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll be quick."

Sara nodded, and pulled the covers back over herself. She wasn't planning to sleep, just to get more comfortable …

The next thing she knew, Grissom was kissing her cheeks to wake her up. She smiled up at him.

"Sorry."

"I love the way you follow through on your promises," he teased.

She smiled again. "I wasn't really awake when I made that promise!"

He chuckled. "I'm leaving now. Like I said, we'll probably need you."

"I'll jump in the shower, then." She climbed out of bed and watched as he picked up his cell phone. "Griss?"

"Hm?" he asked, turning to face her.

She bit her lower lip. "Be safe."

"I will," he promised.

With one last smile, he left her alone.

* * *

Sara had just finished drying her hair when her cell phone rang. She picked it up, a bit surprised to see Warrick's name on the display.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi, Sara. Did I wake you?"

"No," she answered honestly.

"Good. Grissom just called me and asked that I get everyone together to come in to work."

"Busy shift?" Sara asked lightly.

"_Busy_ doesn't go far enough. From what I've heard, the cops got into a shoot-out with some Hispanic kids. Apparently, the scene is a real mess. One cop and at least two suspects are dead. Vartann is running the show, but he's got a lot of back up."

"Vartann?" Sara asked in surprise. "Look, it's not that I don't respect him or think that he's a great detective, but why doesn't Brass have this one? He's got seniority, and he usually gets the high-profile cases."

"I'm not entirely sure," Warrick said slowly, "but, I think he may have been involved in the shooting."

"Oh, no." Sara felt her fingers grow cold. "Warrick, he wasn't …?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Warrick said quickly. "I just think he was part of the chase, that's all. Still not all that good, though, is it?"

"Not really," Sara said with a grimace. "Okay. Where do you need me?"

"We're going to meet at the lab, then we'll all go to the scene together. We're reporting to a command post," Warrick said.

"Okay," Sara said. "I can be at the lab in about half an hour."

"Works for me. I'll see you there."

"See you there," Sara echoed.

She closed her phone and tossed it down on the bed. It was time to get dressed and to get to work.

* * *

An hour later, Sara was following Warrick to their command post. Greg was with her, riding shotgun.

"Have you ever been summoned to a command post before?" he asked.

"Once during my first year," she said. "And a few times since I've been in Vegas. It's not as much fun as you'd think."

"What did you have to do?"

"Interview witnesses, search for bullets – that's a really great job when you're pulling them from someone's front door – um … document the scene, take cops' statements –"

"Okay, okay, I get the point. It's a lot of work."

Sara grinned. "I hope you didn't have plans for the next few days."

"I'd never let any plans I had get in the way of a chance to hang out with you."

Sara laughed. "Please, Greg. Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Oh, really?"

"Well … mainly because I'm not in charge of assignments. You could try flattering Grissom, though. See where that gets you."

Greg laughed. "Somehow, I don't think he'd take flattery from me all that well."

"You never know. Oo, look, we're stopping."

Sara parallel parked their SUV behind the one Warrick and Nick were driving. Greg frowned.

"Didn't Warrick say the crime scene was like twenty miles from here?"

"Okay, king of the hyperbole, the _lab_ is less than twenty miles from here. Gun battles usually block off large portions of the street. We'll have to hoof it the last little distance."

"Stupid secure scenes," Greg grumbled good-naturedly as they got out of the car.

Sara chuckled. "Yeah. I hate the way they care about our safety, too."

"Hey, guys," Warrick said as they all met on the sidewalk. "Ready to head into battle?"

"Let's go," Nick said.

They chatted as they walked down the street, speculating about what might have happened to cause a gun battle. Their theories died on their lips as they reached the primary crime scene.

Two police cruisers and the car the Brass and Sofia had been driving where all parked at various angles, doors open to serve as shields for the police officers who had crouched behind them. All three cars were riddled with bullet holes. A fourth car, a Chevy Caprice, was flipped upside down in front of the cop cars.

"My God," Sara whispered. "What happened here?"

"Running gun battle," Vartann said as he approached them. "The Caprice engaged officers Bell and Adams as they were attempting a routine traffic stop. Shot at them the entire way here. Used automatic weapons, from what we've been able to gather so far." He nodded behind them. "Here comes your boss. Good luck, guys."

They turned to see Grissom approaching, his expression grim. "Hi, everyone. Come on. Let's go over here to talk."

They stepped away from Vartann and the other cops, stopping in the middle of the street. Almost without thinking about it, they stepped into a circle. Grissom, standing between Sara and Warrick, surveyed his team. If he was going to make sense of the chaos, there were no others he'd rather have surrounding him.

They listened attentively as he explained the case facts, some of which were a repeat of what Vartann had told them and what they were able to assume based on the scene. The police had been engaged in a running gun battle by four men driving a Caprice. The chase had ended when the suspects' car had flipped over, beginning a full-on shoot-out. During the battle, one police officer and two suspects had been fatally shot. A third suspect had also been shot, but was being tended by the paramedics. The fourth suspect was on the run; Detective Cavalier and a veritable army of police were searching for him. All they had found thus far was a bicycle- riding teenager who had been shot in the back, presumably by the suspect.

Brass and Sofia were two of the officers involved in the shooting. Because they had both been shooters, they and the other cops involved were taken back to the station as part of the investigation. Catherine had gone along to take their firearms and their statements.

After cautioning them to remember that all the "concerned citizens" who were watching them were likely taking pictures or video of the crime scene, Grissom assigned their duties. Nick and Sara would stay near the command post with Vartann, working the primary crime scene where the Caprice had flipped and the shoot-out had occurred. He and Warrick would each take an alley – a suspect had been shot in both the east and west alleys.

"And, what do I get to do?" Greg asked. "Go back to the lab and wait for a phone call?"

"This is a running gun battle that started twenty blocks back," Grissom said. "You get that."

"That's gotta be, like, a mile! Who's with me?"

"A bunch of pissed off locals with shot-up cars," Sara said.

"Awesome," Nick teased as Greg's face fell.

"You'll be all right," Warrick said.

They separated to their individual crime scenes; Greg with a definite stoop to his shoulders. Nick chuckled as he and Sara headed toward the cars.

"I'm glad I'm not the newbie anymore," he said.

Sara grinned. "Yeah, me, too. We scored pretty big on this one, didn't we?"

"Definitely," Nick agreed. "So, where would you like to start?"

"Grissom put you in charge."

"Yeah. Like you'd ever let me tell you what to do."

Sara laughed. "Well, I'll start the overall sketches."

"I'll start the photo documentation, then."

Nick and Sara worked separately for awhile, each dealing with separate areas of the crime scene. Sara had nearly forgotten he was there when Nick approached her, carrying an armful of trajectory rods.

"Wanna come and play with me?" he grinned.

"Sure," Sara said. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to start on the car Bell and Adams were driving."

Sara nodded slightly grimly. Bell was the officer who had been fatally shot. "Let's go."

Seventy-eight rods later, they had accounted for every bullet impact on the police cruiser. Neither of them could believe all the damage that had been done.

"Looks like a porcupine," Nick commented as he stood in front of the car.

"There's not enough room between rods for a human being to fit!" Sara said incredulously.

"Bell and Adams must have really been swerving and weaving," Nick said. He glanced back down the road as if he could see the chase unfolding.

"Seventy-eight bullet holes," Sara said. She glanced down at the blood pool at her feet. "And, Bell wasn't hit until he was outside the car?"

"You know, I heard Bell was a rookie," Nick said. "Barely off training. It was just his time, I guess, huh?"

Sara raised an eyebrow in silent agreement. She crouched down to examine the inside of the open door in front of her.

Vartann approached them from one side, while the paramedics came from the other. Sara noticed them, but didn't make eye contact. Even after several years, she still had a slight fear of being recognized as Hank Pettigrew's "bit on the side."

"Suspect'll be getting a ride with the coroner," one of the paramedics informed Vartann.

"A little street justice," he commented. "Civilians okay?"

"Some old lady is gonna need stitches," the paramedic said. "Kid on the bike is critical – in surgery."

Vartann nodded slightly as the paramedics passed him. He stopped walking as he reached Sara. "You guys okay here?"

"I'll call and have the suspect's vehicle towed to CSI," Nick said with a nod.

"I'm gonna start digging bullets out of people's houses," Sara said.

Vartann nodded. "Okay. If you need anything, let me know."

"Will do," Nick said.

Sara took off the heavy gloves she had been using to handle the trajectory rods. "Are you going back to the lab with the car?" she asked Nick.

"I'm going to collect all the firearms to take with me first, then I'll head back. Will you be okay on your own?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She smiled. "Well, your Spanish might help me a little …"

"Would you rather go back to the lab?" he asked. "I can go door to door."

"No, that's fine," Sara said. "I'll get Cavalier to help me if I need it."

"Okay," he said. "Be careful, all right?"

She rolled her eyes. "No need to go all big brother on me. I can take care of myself."

Nick grinned. "I know it. Okay. Call me if you need anything."

"Yeah. You do the same."

They separated again. Sara stopped to get her kit before heading to the closest house. Sighing over what she had to do, she knocked on the front door.

A frightened-looking woman answered Sara's knock. Her two children, a boy and a girl who both looked to be younger than ten, crowded close to her.

"Hi," Sara said. "I'm Sara Sidle with the crime lab. If it's okay with you, I'd like to check your house … to see if you've been hit with any bullets."

The woman looked at her blankly. Sara closed her eyes briefly. Why, why, _why_ had she taken Latin in high school? She wished she could go back in time and tell her eighth grade self that _no_, she would _not_ become a doctor, and that Spanish was a far more practical choice for her future move to Las Vegas.

Fortunately, the little girl came to Sara's rescue, explaining Sara's request to her mother. The woman listened to her daughter, then gave Sara an appraising look. Sara held up her ID to assuage the woman's fears.

"I just work at the lab," she hastened to clarify, knowing that the police were not cast in a particularly pleasant light when they, too, had been shooting. "I'm not actually a police officer. I'm a scientist."

Once the little girl had translated this message, the woman nodded.

"Venga," she said, waving her hand to motion Sara inside.

Sara followed her in, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. She looked around in shock. This house had clearly taken the brunt of the flying bullets. She picked up her camera and began taking pictures of the multiple bullet holes in the walls, the furniture, the windows …

"¿Me puede ayudar?" the woman asked.

Sara turned to her slightly, unsure if she had been addressing her or one of the children.

The woman took Sara's acknowledgement for understanding, and began pleading with her in rapid Spanish. Sara walked toward her feeling horrible. She barely managed to grasp a word here and there, and had no idea what the woman was saying.

"I'm sorry," she said, hoping to stop the flow of nearly-panicked words. "I don't speak Spanish." She turned away to photograph another round of bullet holes.

The woman, displeased with Sara's response, turned to her daughter. "Mi'ja, dile algo para que entienda."

"She wants to know why our house got shot up," the little girl said.

Sara turned to face them, lowering her camera. "I don't have the answer to that," she said. "I'm sorry."

The woman continued in Spanish, then dissolved into tears, clutching her children to her. Sara didn't understand the words, but she could grasp the meaning. The little girl looked up at her, her eyes silently pleading with Sara to make it right.

Sara wanted to make it right. She wanted to make this neighborhood safe for this woman and her children. She wanted to stop people from killing one another. She just wasn't sure that she could.

Shaking her head at the senselessness of it all, she turned to extract a bullet from a candle on a shelf.

* * *

Sara walked out of her tenth house, flipping her sunglasses back down over her eyes. She knew that she had more houses she needed to search, but she also needed to get these bullets back to the lab. She wondered if Vartann would have someone who could drive them back for her.

"Hey."

Sara stopped and looked up to see Grissom coming toward her. She smiled at him.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Wishing I had stock in ammunition," she said. "I've found an awful lot of expended bullets."

"Yeah, I'd imagine you have."

Sara looked at him closely. "How are _you_ doing, Griss?"

"Busy," he replied. "Cases like this always make us run a lot."

"That's true." She pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. "How's everyone else doing?"

"Well, I think that Greg hates me," he said with a grin. "He's only halfway done with his street."

Sara grimaced. "I'm not jealous of him."

"He'll be fine," Grissom said. "Warrick is working on proving that his DB was actually holding a gun; I'm going to have to do the same thing."

"Wait," Sara said, shaking her head slightly. "Are you saying that there's any question of that? I've been collecting bullets for hours. There is no way that these men were unarmed."

"No one is disputing that," he said. "But, based on the current accounts from witnesses and the news reports, our two suspects were apparently unarmed when they were shot."

"The cops can't shoot unarmed men."

"No," Grissom agreed. "The community is fairly convinced that they did just that, though."

"But …"

"I know." He sighed. "Additionally, the father of the teenager who was shot is convinced that the police shot him in the back."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "I thought that Cavalier said that they found him like that."

"They did. But, who sounds more credible to the community? A well-respected businessman who lives here even though he can afford to live somewhere far nicer, or a Sheriff who won't release a statement until we've collected enough evidence?"

"So, we should hurry? Is that what you're telling me?"

"No," Grissom said quickly. "No. Don't rush the evidence. The public can believe whatever it wants to believe, and the Sheriff can just wait. I want us to be _right_, Sara, not speedy. They've already beaten us in the battle. We need to make sure that the evidence wins the war."

Sara shook her head with a faint smile. "What an analogy."

"Would you rather I used something insect-based?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

He glanced at his watch. "Listen, I need to get back to PD to touch base with Catherine. Will you be okay here?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll keep hunting for bullets. Oh, hey, if you're headed back to the lab, could you take the bullets I've collected? I'll process them when I get back."

"Sure."

"Thanks. You're the best."

He shook his head, but he was fighting a smile and his cheeks had a faint, pink tinge. "I'll call you later to see how you're doing."

"Okay. Have fun."

"Yeah. You, too."

­­­

* * *

Catherine was walking out of the interrogation room with Detective Ortega when Grissom found her. She looked rather relieved to see him coming down the hall. She excused herself from her conversation with Ortega and joined him.

"Hey," she said. "How's everything going?"

"Spinning in all directions," he replied. "You?"

She shook her head. "I forgot how much I hate taking these types of statements. Poor Sofia …"

"Poor Sofia?"

"She's a wreck over this."

"Brass?"

"You know Brass. He's upset, but he's done these before. This is Sofia's first time."

Grissom nodded. "Anything I should know?"

"Yeah. The cop she was with in the alley picked up the suspect's gun after shooting him. Sofia instructed him to put it down; he did."

Grissom shook his head. "Well, that explains why the eyewitnesses think the cops planted a gun on him."

"Yeah, that would do it."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Should we compare notes over coffee?"

Grissom smiled. "Yeah. Let's do that."

* * *

The investigation became more difficult by the hour. Sara spent several solo shifts searching the houses of wary and grief-stricken residents, trying to find all stray bullets from the gun battle. Greg spent even longer collecting evidence from the beginning of the chase to the end. Warrick was attacked at his crime scene by a woman who swore that the police had killed her innocent son. Grissom felt himself being pulled in twelve directions at once.

Only Nick had much success during the early part of the investigation: He managed to identify the final suspect. José Fausto was already in the system for various crimes. Although he appeared to have disappeared, they were hopeful that he would be found quickly.

* * *

Grissom went back into the lab for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. He had been between the lab, PD and the crime scenes so many times that he was starting to feel sorry for his SUV.

Things were finally starting to fall together, though. Between Catherine's discussions with the police dispatcher and Sergeant Adams, as well as Greg's physical findings, they were now certain that the Caprice full of shooters had been a distraction from another crime. Catherine had taken over that aspect of the investigation.

Warrick and Nick had proven that at least one of the suspects had indeed been pointing a gun at the police. They had found a bullet shot by a department-issued gun imbedded in the cylinder of the suspect's gun. Chemical tests proved that the gun had been in his hand.

Reviewing all the "good" that had come out of the day, Grissom walked into the morgue for Bell's autopsy. He was sure that Doc Robbins was looking forward to it as much as he was.

"I'm glad you're here," Doc Robbins said as he entered the room. "I'd like to get this one off my table."

Grissom smiled internally. At least he had been right about their shared opinion of this autopsy.

The doctor immediately began listing off his findings. "I found a rather large contusion on the left chest just below the nipple."

"Well, that location is consistent with the bullet Catherine found imbedded in his vest," Grissom said.

"It's like getting kicked by a mule," Doc Robbins said. He picked up a trajectory rod. "You'll want to see this." He inserted the rod into the gaping wound in Bell's neck. "Through and through. Entrance wound just below his left ear; exited below and to the front of his right ear, severing the right common carotid. That's your COD. Fortunately, he never felt a thing."

Grissom, who had been leaning over the table to look at the body, stood up straight, his expression almost confused. "Left to right, back to front?" he said, looking at Doc Robbins.

Robbins nodded slightly.

"Only cops were shooting in that direction," Grissom said.

"Are you saying Bell was hit by friendly fire?" Robbins said, frowning slightly.

"Maybe not so friendly," Grissom said grimly.

Robbins shook his head. "Mrs. Bell is going to have a hard time with that idea," he said.

"I know," Grissom agreed. "But …"

Robbins nodded. "The facts are the facts. We have to accept them."

"Exactly." Grissom drew a deep breath. "Okay. I'm going to have to get in touch with Sara, and see how she's doing on her bullet search. Until we find this through and through, we have no definitive proof."

Robbins raised his eyebrows.

"I know," Grissom said. "But, Vartann's going to need more than just the autopsy report to give the Under Sheriff."

"Medical science is always underrated," Robbins grumbled.

Grissom's phone rang, cutting off all further conversation. "Excuse me."

Robbins nodded, and Grissom stepped out into the hall, opening his phone.

"Grissom."

"Hey, Griss, we've got a location on Fausto," Warrick said. "I'm on my way there with Cavalier and the team."

"Okay," Grissom said. "Keep me updated."

"Will do."

"And, Warrick, be careful."

"I will. I'll call you when we've got him."

"Thanks."

They hung up, and Grissom immediately called Sara.

"Sidle."

"Sara," he said, "how are you doing with finding the bullet that went through Bell?"

"It was a through and through, then?"

"Yes."

"Oh," she sighed. "I was sort of hoping that it wasn't. I've already collected over a hundred bullets. As of the moment, none has Bell's name literally written on it, so I can't tell you anything for sure."

"Okay," he said. "Listen, I just left Doc Robbins. It appears that Bell may have been shot by a cop. So …"

"Oh, man," Sara said. "Yeah. Okay. I'll keep looking."

"Thanks."

When Sara spoke again, her voice was far gentler. "Griss … how are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," he said. "You?"

"Wishing I knew Spanish," she said ruefully.

Grissom smiled. "Look, Sara, stop when you need to, okay? You can't keep working forever."

"I will," she said.

"As soon as I have someone free, I'll send them to help you find that bullet."

"Thanks."

"And, Sara?"

"Yeah?"

He swallowed. "Be safe."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "You, too."

Grissom had just closed his phone when it rang again. He reopened it. "Grissom."

"Griss, I've got bad news."

"What's wrong, Warrick?"

"We got Fausto, but, as we were leading him out, he was shot by a sniper."

"What?" Grissom exclaimed. Of everything Warrick could have told him, he did not expect to hear _that_.

"Yeah," Warrick said. "He was killed instantly. The police are searching for the sniper now, but I don't know …"

"Well," Grissom said, "clearly, someone did not want him talking to us."

"Yeah, I got that message," Warrick said.

"Okay," Grissom said. "You're going to have to take the scene solo. I can't send anyone to back you up right now."

"It's cool," Warrick said. "I sort of want this one anyway, you know?"

"Good. Okay, keep me updated."

"I will."

Closing his phone once again, Grissom closed his eyes for a moment. The case was suddenly even more twisted.


	42. No Good Answer

A/N: Well, I don't know about where you live, but, by my time zone standards, I'm posting this on Sunday night, so it still counts as a weekend update! Seriously, I was so afraid I wouldn't have this chapter done tonight at all. Thank goodness for a lazy weekend!

And, sadly, this is the point when I have to tell you that I most likely won't update next weekend. I'm going away for the weekend, and I won't have access to my computer. Hopefully, I won't make you wait till the next weekend, but, no promises. I'm sorry! At the very least, I'm not leaving you with a cliffhanger.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you like this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are taken from episode 608, "A Bullet Runs Through It" part 2.

* * *

_No Good Answer_

Grissom had barely closed his phone after Warrick's bombshell of a call when it rang again. Without looking at the screen, he flipped it open.

"Grissom."

"Grissom, it's Ecklie. We have our meeting with McKean, Vartann and Ortega in about thirty seconds. Where are you?"

"I'm in the morgue," he said. "I'm on my way. I'll bring the autopsy reports with me."

"Great. I'll let them know."

"Thanks. See you in a minute."

Grissom closed his phone again and walked back into the autopsy room.

"Bad news?" Robbins asked.

Grissom merely shook his head. "I have to be in a meeting with McKean. Can I have the autopsy reports to take along?"

"Sure," Robbins said, stacking them for him. "Oh, I didn't get to go over this one with you."

"Which is that?"

"Leandro Chavez. One of your suspects."

"Oh, right. He was listed as wounded when I got the initial call."

"Well, he could have stayed that way."

Grissom raised his eyebrows.

"He died of survivable wounds," Robbins said. "He bled out at the scene, but, had he received medical treatment sooner, he could have lived."

Grissom closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sure the paramedics treated Bell first. That's their procedure."

"Well, they should have started with Chavez," Robbins said. "Unlike Bell, he stood a chance."

Grissom sighed. "Okay. Thanks, Albert."

"Good luck in the meeting."

Grissom gave him a half-smile. "Thanks."

­­­

* * *

As Grissom had anticipated, Under Sheriff McKean did not take the news that a suspect had died of survivable wounds very well. He took the news that Bell had likely been killed by a fellow officer even worse.

"We haven't recovered the bullet yet," Grissom concluded. "It's a big crime scene."

"Unacceptable," McKean declared. "Get back out there and find that bullet. I don't care if it takes everybody you've got working around the clock."

"I said we haven't found it _yet_," Grissom said. "I didn't say we weren't looking."

"Who's running the scene?" McKean asked.

"Sara Sidle."

"Who's with her?"

"I assigned her and Nick Stokes to the scene," Grissom said. "Nick came back to the lab to process the cars; Sara's searching for the bullet."

McKean closed his eyes briefly. "Tell me you've got someone helping her."

"We're sending her every possible CSI," Ecklie cut in before Grissom could answer.

"And, I'm putting all available officers there, too," Vartann added. "Now that Fausto has been found, we'll have more people free."

"Good," McKean said. "Anything else I should know?"

"Not right now," Vartann said.

"All right. Keep me posted."

The other men all exchanged looks as McKean swept out of the room. Ecklie was the first to speak.

"Grissom, we'd better get back to the lab."

Grissom nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, gentlemen."

"Thank you," Vartann said. "I'm glad you three were here to share in the moment."

They all smiled slightly. Meeting with McKean had not been high on anyone's to do list.

* * *

"Sidle!"

Sara stopped mid-step as she walked through the lab halls and turned to see McKean walking toward her. She raised her eyebrows. She hadn't been sure that he knew her name until that moment. "Hello," she said a bit cautiously.

"Why are you here and not at your crime scene?"

"I wanted to bring some bullets back for Bobby to process," she said, holding up several evidence bags.

"Grissom tells me that you're running the primary scene."

"That's right."

"He also tells me that Bell was killed by a through and through bullet that was potentially shot at him by a fellow officer."

"Yes."

"Finding that bullet is your top priority," he said, leaving no room for argument. "Log your evidence, then get back to that crime scene. I don't want to hear that you've left it again until you find that bullet."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Yes, sir."

McKean stalked off, leaving Sara standing in the middle of the hallway.

Shaking her head, she continued down to log her evidence. She definitely needed to talk to Grissom about that little exchange.

Once her evidence was logged, Sara headed for Grissom's office. She looked down at the file in her hands as she walked through his open door.

"Hey, Grissom, I have a question …" Her voice died in her throat as she looked up to discover that he wasn't alone in his office. He was with –

"Sofia," she said incredulously. She looked from Sofia to Grissom, then back again. "You're on administrative leave," Sara said.

"I know," Sofia said, half-turning toward her.

"You should not be in this building," Sara continued.

"Yeah, I was just talking to a friend," Sofia said, finally fully turning to look at Sara. "If I can't talk to a friend, then who the hell am I supposed to talk to?"

"Any friend outside the department." Sara's determined calm was almost shocking when contrasted against Sofia's rising anger.

"And, how many friends outside work do you have, Sara? Oh, you know, maybe I should go talk to my mother. Oh, sorry, I forgot – she's a cop, too."

"I can recommend a departmental psychologist," Sara said, raising an eyebrow.

Sofia seemed to deflate as she held Sara's gaze. Realizing that her adversary was not going to back down, Sofia looked to Grissom for support. His face remained impassive.

"You're right," she finally said. She looked at Grissom. "This was a really bad idea. I'm sorry."

Sofia left the office and Sara gave Grissom a look that unleashed all the anger she had managed to hide during their dialogue. She waited until Sofia was truly gone, then closed the door.

"What the hell was she doing here?"

"She answered that already, Sara," Grissom said calmly.

"Did you invite her?"

He gave her a look of annoyance. "No."

"Then, why was she here?"

"She wanted to talk about Bell's shooting."

"Which she's not allowed to do," Sara said. "She was one of the officers who was firing, Grissom. You told me yourself that Bell was likely shot by a cop. What if it was her? She can't talk to you about the case – not when she's a potential suspect."

"Do you think I didn't tell her that?" he asked, his irritation finally showing. "Do you think I welcomed her into my office with open arms and laid all our evidence out in front of her? She's a detective, Sara, and she was a CSI. She knows the procedures. And, even more than that, she knows how to read evidence. She knows how to read the scene. She knows that it's strongly possible that she shot Bell."

Sara flinched.

"She needed someone to talk to," he said quietly. "Sara, she thinks she shot a fellow officer. How do you think _you'd_ handle something like that?"

Sara was silent for a moment. "I've got to go find a bullet," she said at last.

"Yeah," Grissom said quietly as he watched her leave his office. "That bullet means everything."

* * *

For several hours, it seemed that the case was finally coming together. Warrick brought in the cartridge casing from the bullet used to kill Fausto. The Buick that had been the target of the initial traffic stop was discovered. Although it had been torched, Nick got to work processing it. Catherine found surveillance footage of the couple who had climbed into it. Greg finally managed to process all the bullets from the twenty blocks of the pursuit route.

He was explaining to Grissom that all the bullets were from the suspects' guns, not police guns, when Hodges found them. After taunting Greg about the amount of time he had spent in the field, he turned to Grissom with trace results from the gun the suspect in his alley had used.

"Found red clay chips and dust on the gouges on Ricardo Estevez's forty-five," he said, handing his report to Grissom. "He was the guy that was in the east alley with Brass."

"Red clay chips?" Grissom asked, frowning at the file in his hands.

"Trace is consistent with roof tiles and clay pots," Hodges clarified.

"Who keeps their gun in a clay pot?" Greg asked.

"That would be … no one," Hodges said. He turned back to Grissom. "Trace evidence is fresh, so it definitely came from the alley." A smug smile crossed his face. "In a crisis, you can always count on me."

Greg closed his eyes briefly as Hodges left the room. "Doesn't he bug you?"

Grissom half-shrugged. "No more so than anyone else around here."

He took the results Hodges had given him and left Greg alone with his bullets and map. Walking down the hall toward his office, Grissom turned this new piece of evidence over and over in his head.

The gun had gouges on it.

The gouges had red clay dust in them.

The dust was fresh and from the scene.

The street … the fence … the body … the …

"Roof," Grissom said with dawning understanding.

He turned, changing directions. It was time to go back to the scene.

* * *

The primary crime scene certainly looked different now than it had the last time Grissom had visited. Sara was no longer working alone to pull bullets from every possible surface. A veritable army of CSIs, police officers and cadets scoured the area, removing bullets from walls, cars, trees, window frames, doors …

Grissom searched for several moments before finding Sara. She was sitting in the open back of her SUV, making notes on the bullets she had collected.

"Sara," he said as he approached her, "will you come with me to the east alley, please?"

Sara looked up at him, taking in the field kit in his hand and the ladder slung over his shoulder. "I thought my top priority, as per the Under Sheriff, was finding the bullet that went through Bell."

"Well, this is per me," Grissom said. "Come on. It'll be fun."

He gave her a smile that he knew she couldn't resist. As anticipated, she shrugged and put down her paperwork to follow him.

"So, what's in the east alley?" she asked as they walked.

"A red clay roof," he replied.

"Okay …"

"We're testing a theory."

"Of course we are," Sara smiled.

They reached their destination. Grissom set up his ladder, stretching it against the side of a house.

"Hold this steady for me?"

Sara grabbed the side of the ladder as Grissom climbed up. He smiled as he looked at the fresh cracks and scratches in the roof tiles.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Call Hodges at the lab. Have him bring two exemplar forty-fives out here. I'll get Ortega to bring Brass and Sergeant Carroll."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Sara asked, not really expecting a straight answer.

Grissom did not disappoint. "What goes up, must come down."

Sara smiled and pulled out her phone to call Hodges.

"Hodges."

"Hey, Hodges, it's Sara," she said. "I'm at the crime scene with Grissom. He'd like you to come out here with two exemplar forty-fives."

"May I ask why?"

"You can ask all you want, but I don't have any answers," Sara said. "He said we're proving a theory."

"I'm always interested in scientific gain," Hodges replied. "Um … it _is_ a secure scene, right?"

Sara bit back her chuckle. "Yes, David, you'll be quite safe."

"I'll get the guns from Bobby and be right out."

"We'll be waiting."

Sara snapped her phone closed to see Grissom ending his conversation with Ortega. He smiled at her.

"Hodges is coming?"

"Yes," she replied. "He'll have firearms in hand."

"Good." Grissom's smile widened. "I think things are finally coming together, Sara. We may solve this one yet."

"You had doubts?"

"No, of course not." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I just want this one wrapped as quickly as possible. I saw firsthand what the open investigation is doing to Sofia, and I'm sure Brass isn't faring much better. Things like this … they really cut to the core."

"Yeah, you're right." Sara bit her lip. "Do you want me to get back to the bullet search? I'm not doing Brass and Sofia much good here."

"No, stay," he said with a smile. "This experiment will help Brass as much as the bullet search will."

Sara gave him a coy smile. "You just want to spend time with me."

"Maybe," he laughed. "When all this is over, I think I may owe you dinner."

"Oh, really?"

"Mm-hm. And a horror movie marathon."

Sara's face relaxed into a pleased smile. "Our plans?"

"Yeah. The ones this case threw overboard."

"You know, I may hold you to that."

Grissom grinned. "Good. I love it when you hold me."

Sara laughed outright.

"Did I miss a joke?"

Grissom and Sara turned a bit _too_ quickly to see Brass headed toward them. If he had heard anything other than Sara's laughter, they couldn't read it on his face.

"Not really," Sara said lightly. "Another of Grissom's puns."

Brass rolled his eyes. "I'll count my blessings."

"Okay, Grissom, I've got your boys here," Ortega said as he and Carroll followed Brass into the alley. "What's going on?"

"We need to wait for … Hodges. Glad you could make it."

"Hi," Hodges said as he joined them. "Sara tells me we're proving a theory?"

"Right," Grissom said. He walked away from the small crowd and toward the fence at the end of the alley. "So, where exactly was Estevez standing when you guys saw him?"

After Brass and Carroll had helped him to set the scene, Grissom declared that he had found a way that both the officers, who declared that Estevez had been armed, and the eyewitnesses, who said he had had his empty hands raised, could be right.

"Look, don't make this some intellectual exercise for your own personal amusement," Brass said, the strain of the past few days evident in his voice.

"Check it out," Grissom said, hastily moving forward. "Hodges, stand over here."

"Yes, sir," Hodges said, joining Grissom in the "suspect" position.

"See that roof?"

Hodges looked up with sudden understanding. "It's red clay."

Grissom nodded. "Toss one of the guns up there."

"Actually, they're Bobby Dawson's guns. He made me sign for them. I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate it if we brought them back damaged."

"Technically, they're _my_ guns," Grissom said. "So, toss one up there."

Hodges nodded and unzipped the gun case in his hands. "Just for the record, I've never really been good at sports …"

"Sara," Grissom said.

"Yeah," Sara replied, moving to stand in Hodges's spot.

He gave her a gun, which she tossed up onto the roof.

Grissom explained the crack he had noted in a tile on the roof, implying that it had been caused when the gun struck it. Hodges backed him up, stating that he had found gouges and red clay dust in the suspect's gun.

"Gun's still up there," Ortega pointed out.

"Sara," Grissom said, taking the second gun from Hodges, "try it again."

Sara tossed the second gun up onto the roof. This one slid back down into her hands. Brass and Carroll both watched with obvious relief on their faces.

"There you have it," Grissom said.

"All right," Ortega said. "This is all documented for the review board and for the jury?"

"It will be," Grissom promised.

"Very good. Come on, gentlemen. I'll give you a ride back."

"Good theory, Griss," Sara said with a smile.

"Definitely," Hodges agreed. He smiled. "So, did I break the case?"

"This part of it," Grissom acknowledged. "And, now, you can take these guns back to Bobby."

Hodges made a face. "Since they're _your guns_ …"

Sara laughed. "Come on, Hodges, I'll go back with you. I need to dump something like a million bullets on Bobby, anyway. Maybe that will be enough to distract him from tearing your head off."

He smiled. "Well, it is the least you can do. Tell you what – I'll even help you two process them."

"Kind of you – since you _are_ the trace tech." Sara gave Grissom a smile. "Thanks for bringing me along on your experiment, Griss. You were right. It was fun."

"I'm glad."

"We'll see you at the lab," she said as they packed up the guns.

"Assuming Bobby doesn't kill me," Hodges said.

"He won't kill you," Sara assured him.

"You can't be sure of that. He does have access to a lot of guns."

"Two less now."

Grissom smiled as Sara and Hodges left, still taunting one another.

"One more mystery solved," he muttered to himself. "Now, on to the next one."

* * *

After some very intense work from all members of the lab, the case slowly drew to a close. Catherine determined that drugs had been at the root of everything that had happened. The couple that had been driving the Buick had been drug runners. Neither of them would talk, though, so they couldn't lead them any further in their investigation. With two silent suspects and four dead ones, they knew that they'd never get to the _why_ of the case.

One _why_ that nearly broke their hearts was the shooting of the bicycling teenager. While searching José Fausto's hotel room, Warrick discovered both Fausto's gun and the teenager's bike. After Bobby test fired the gun, they were able to determine that Fausto had shot the boy in the back so that he could take his bike. The bike became his "getaway vehicle" as he ran from the police.

Sara, Hodges and Bobby finally managed to process enough bullets to find one with blood on it. Wendy tested the blood and proved that it was, indeed, the bullet that had killed Bell. Sara nearly cried when she discovered that it had been collected from the first house she had visited. _Why_ hadn't she stopped to process sooner?

Bobby processed the bullet within an inch of its life, but was only able to prove that it was fired by either Brass or Sofia. Beyond that, it was too mangled to conclusively prove which gun had been used.

"Okay," Grissom said after receiving his report. "Thanks, Bobby."

"I'm sorry, boss," Bobby said, not for the first time.

"Bobby, I know that you did everything you could," Grissom assured him. "Now, it's my turn."

"What are you planning?"

Grissom smiled. "A reconstruction."

Taking Bobby's report, Grissom left him alone. Walking down the hall, he nearly ran into Nick.

"Hey, Nicky, you're just the man I needed to see."

"What's up, Griss?" Nick asked.

"I need you and Sara to come back to your scene with me. We're going to run a reconstruction."

Nick frowned slightly. "Sara told me that Bobby had the bullet that went through Bell."

"He did. But, his tests were inconclusive. It's time to run some of our own."

"All right," Nick said. "I'll go find Sara and call auto transport to have the cars towed to the scene."

"Good man. I'll meet you both in the break room."

* * *

Grissom, Sara and Nick painstakingly reset the scene, making sure that the cars were all lined up exactly as they had been during the gun battle. Once they were sure that everything was in place, Grissom stood in Bell's spot.

"All right," he said. "Nick, you be Brass. Sara, you be Sofia. I'll be Bell."

Sara and Nick stepped into position behind the open doors of the detectives' car, while Grissom crouched down as Bell would have. They, too, crouched down behind the cover of their doors.

"Griss?" Sara called. "I can't see you. You're blocked by both cars."

"Yeah, me either," Nick agreed. "I'd have to shoot through both cars to get to you. I processed them both; no shots entered from the back."

Grissom thought for a moment, then stood up. "Can you see me here?"

Sara crouched down again, holding her hands in front of her like a gun. "Yeah, I can see you."

"Yeah, now," Nick agreed.

Sara stood up. "What would make Bell stand up in the middle of a gun fight?"

"Maybe he had to change positions," Grissom offered. "We know that the suspects were starting to run, right?"

"Okay, he popped up," Nick said. "Took one in the vest."

"Let's assume that," Grissom said. "We'll line up the exit trajectory with the apartment window and we'll use lasers, but we may have to wait till it's dark."

"So … what do we do till then?" Sara asked.

Grissom glanced at his watch. "Dinner?"

"Yeah, definitely," Nick said. "I'm starving."

Grissom smiled. "Okay. Let's go. My treat."

Sara and Nick exchanged a look of surprise.

"Thanks, Grissom," Nick said.

"Yeah, thanks," Sara echoed.

"You two have taken a lot from the Under Sheriff," he explained. "I think you've earned dinner."

Smiling, they packed up what they needed and headed for the car.

* * *

They lingered over dinner, giving the sun time to well and truly set before returning to the scene. Grissom called Greg in to help them; his job would be to help align the laser that showed the bullet's path into the house.

Grissom set up the dummy that would represent Bell while Sara and Nick placed their lasers on tripods in their respective positions. Greg carried a candle identical to the one Sara had dug the bullet from into the house. A clear X marked the spot where the bullet had penetrated the candle.

"All right," Grissom said at last. "Let's call Greg and make sure he's ready to line up the exit laser."

Sara took out her phone and called Greg. He answered quickly.

"Hello," he said cheerfully.

"Hi," Sara said. "We're turning on the lasers. Is everything in position?"

"Ready on this end," he said.

"Let me know when the beam hits the candle." She lowered the phone to speak to Grissom. "Good to go!"

Grissom turned on the laser that represented the exit trajectory of the bullet. He carefully adjusted it, shooting its beam through the broken window.

"Uh, good height," Greg told Sara. "Move it six inches to the left."

"Six inches to the left," she relayed to Grissom.

"Oh, oh, no, my left," Greg corrected as the beam shot farther away from its target.

"He meant the other left!" Sara called to Grissom.

Smiling, Grissom moved the laser in the opposite direction.

Once his laser was in line, Grissom instructed Sara to turn on her laser. She did so; her beam went wide of "Bell."

"The path of my laser is off," she said.

"Yeah, it's a bad angle," Grissom agreed. "Move it to the left."

Sara moved her arms as though moving a gun and ran into the car. "Griss?"

He looked back at her.

"It's blocked by the car," she said. "It's not possible."

"Turn it off," he said. "Nick, turn yours on."

"Mine's been on the whole time."

Grissom turned to look at him.

"It's still blocked," Nick said.

Grissom frowned slightly. "Raise it up."

Nick raised his laser, forcing the beam into a direct line with the dummy's neck and Grissom's exit laser. They exchanged a grim look.

"He stood up," Nick acknowledged a bit helplessly.

All three of their hearts dropped as they stared at the perfectly aligned laser beams.

"I didn't want it to be Brass," Sara said quietly.

"Would you rather it had been Sofia?" Grissom asked.

She shook her head. "I was kinda hoping it was the second shooter on the grassy knoll."

Nick smiled ruefully. "Yeah, me, too."

Grissom sighed. "Well, there's no denying it now, is there?"

"Who's going to tell Brass?" Sara asked, fearing that she already knew the answer.

"I will," Grissom said.

Sara nodded. She had expected as much.

* * *

Sara sat in her living room, aimlessly flipping the channels on her television. She had no idea what to do with herself. She desperately needed to unwind after the case, but, for once, didn't even know how to begin.

Nick, Warrick and Greg had all gone out. They had invited her along, but she had declined, thinking that she'd spend her time off with Grissom. He, however, was presenting their findings to the community in a town hall meeting organized by the mayor. She knew that she could still join the guys, but she had no desire to leave again.

Sighing, she let her head fall back against the couch. She turned off the tv, suddenly annoyed by the sound of canned laughter. The silence was a welcome change.

It was broken by a knock on her door. Frowning slightly, she got up to answer it. She peeked through the peep hole and smiled, warmth spreading through her entire body.

"Hi," she said as she opened the door.

Grissom smiled back at her. "I was hoping you'd be home. I was afraid, though, that you might have gone out with the guys."

"I could have," she acknowledged, stepping back to let him enter. "But, I felt like staying in." She closed the door behind him.

"Me, too," he said.

He reached for her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Sara clung to him for a long moment, drawing strength from him, even as he drew strength from her. She pulled back slightly, reaching up to run her fingers over his beard.

"How was the meeting?"

"Can we not talk about it now?"

"Sure," she said. "What would you like to –?"

Her question was cut off abruptly as he pressed his lips against hers. "Nothing at all," he whispered against her.

She smiled. "I think I can handle that."

"Good." He kissed her again.


	43. Questions of Marriage

A/N: I've finally got this story back on track! I'd like to thank you for your patience with me. Hopefully, I'll be updating regularly for the foreseeable future.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you like this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 609, "Dog Eat Dog."

* * *

_Questions of Marriage_

Sara walked into the lab right on time for her shift. For once, she had not left ridiculously early; she had been cleaning, and wanted to finish her task before leaving her apartment.

As she walked through the halls, she thought that the lab seemed oddly quiet, as though everyone had already been sent to their crime scenes. Her phone rang just as she reached the locker room; she pulled it out and flipped it open without looking at the caller ID.

"Sidle."

"Hey, Sara."

"Hi," she said, smiling at the sound of Grissom's voice. "Where are you?"

"I'm at a crime scene with Catherine and Brass," he replied. "I need you and Nick to go to another scene. Double homicide."

"Okay. I'll find Nick."

"He wanted to check something at another scene," Grissom said. "I'll give him a call and tell him to meet you at the lab when he's done there. Will you wait for him?"

"Of course."

"Thanks."

"No problem. I'll see you later?"

"I'll do my best."

Sara smiled, realizing that one of their coworkers must be within earshot. She glanced around, making sure she was alone, and lowered her voice. "I missed seeing you when I got in."

"Me, too," Grissom agreed. "Catherine and I were both called in before shift."

Sara shrugged, even though he couldn't see it. "It's the job."

"So it is." He cleared his throat. "If you and Nick need back up, let me know. Warrick has the night off, but we can call him in if you need him."

"I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Okay. Wait a minute."

"Okay," Sara agreed, frowning slightly.

"I'm sorry," Grissom said in a low voice after a moment's pause. "I wanted to get away from the others. Listen, I was thinking…the next time we're both free, do you want to have dinner?"

"I'd love to," Sara said with a smile.

"Great," Grissom said cheerfully. "We'll plan the details when we find the time."

"Perfect," Sara said.

"I'll talk to you later, then."

"Right." She smiled at how reluctant they both were to say goodbye. She decided to rip off the band aid. "Bye, Griss."

"Bye," he replied.

Sara closed her phone and headed for the evidence vault. She could get some work done on one of her open investigations while she waited for Nick.

* * *

Nick found her in the DNA lab, chatting with Wendy. He smiled as he entered the room.

"How are my two favorite girls?"

Sara and Wendy exchanged a look and rolled their eyes.

"Yeah, we're your favorites," Sara said. "Right along with Catherine, Mandy, Judy …"

Wendy laughed. "She got you there."

"She's a cynic," Nick said with a smile.

"I'm not a cynic," Sara said, scrunching up her face. "I'm a realist."

"Whatever," Nick said. He turned to her with a smile. "So, we're together tonight?"

Sara grinned. "So it would appear. Did you talk to Grissom?"

Nick nodded. "He called me from the field and said I had to meet you here to go to a scene."

"Yeah. Double homicide."

"Well, doesn't that sound like fun?" Nick teased.

Sara smiled. "At least we won't be bored."

"When I'm with you, I'm never bored."

"Oh, puh-lease," Wendy said. "Stop flirting, Stokes."

Nick laughed. "With her? That's practically incestuous."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Come on, Smooth Operator. Let's get to the scene."

Laughing, Nick followed her to the car.

* * *

Their double homicide victims turned out to be Michael and Lori Tinsley, a husband and wife who had died in their home. While Michael's cause of death was not immediately apparent, Lori's throat had been cut. Sara and Nick could hardly say that it had been "slit;" it looked as though it had been ripped apart. Nick's best guess was that it had been mangled by a serrated knife.

Sofia, who was the detective in charge of the scene, left them alone in the house while she went to find the coroner. Nick followed a blood trail into the yard; Sara stayed inside and discovered dog bowls covered in blood. Nick had just returned to examine the bowls with her when they heard something banging.

They exchanged a look. All the cops assigned to the scene were stationed outside the house, and Sofia had not yet returned with the coroner. Both drawing their weapons, they stood slowly to their feet and began to make their way down the hall to the source of the noise. Sara walked a pace ahead of Nick. They both knew that he would have knocked her out of his way to protect her, but they both also knew that she'd never let him. Aside from wanting to prove that she could take care of herself, Sara felt a strong desire to protect Nick. Perhaps his abduction had had a more profound effect on her than she had realized.

They finally arrived at a partially closed door at the end of the hall. Sara nudged it open, and they both stopped in shock. The source of the noise was a golden retriever, who was sitting in her crate, her face and front paws covered in blood. Sara felt her heart sink at the idea that the dog had somehow been involved in the murder.

"I'll call Animal Control," Nick said quietly.

Sara turned to look at him. "Do you think she's dangerous?"

"We can't be too careful. She _is_ covered in blood."

Sara sighed. "I love golden retrievers. I had one when I was little. I adored that dog. He was great."

"Really?" Nick asked, pulling out his phone. "What was his name?"

"Sandy," Sara smiled. "I named him."

"Fan of the sandbox?"

"The beach, actually."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot that you're a California – Hi, this is Nick Stokes with CSI."

Smiling slightly, Sara walked away from the dog. She was afraid that she'd start playing with her if she waited too long, and the last thing she needed to do was to contaminate any evidence on their new suspect.

"Hey," Sofia said as Sara walked back into the living room. "Find anything interesting?"

"Yeah," Sara said. "We've found our first suspect."

Sofia's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Is Nick …?"

"He's on the phone with Animal Control," Sara said with a smile. "We found their dog, who has a considerable amount of blood on her."

"Well, that doesn't mean she had anything to do with this," Sofia said. "She could have been trying to help the victim."

"Good point," Sara said, feeling a bit relieved at the idea that the dog might not be a rabid attacker.

"Still, though, we'll need to process her."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

To Sara's great relief, Kahlua, the victims' dog, was declared innocent. Nick took bite impressions and compared them to the marks on the victim's neck; the dog who had attacked her had a chipped tooth, which Kahlua did not.

Sofia's end of the investigation revealed that the victims were involved in a _very_ messy divorce. They were fighting over every possession they had. Lori was at the point of selling off Michael's record collection; he had his girlfriend break into the house to steal the vinyl back. In addition to fighting over their joint property, the Tinsleys were engaged in a nasty custody battle over their dog.

"This case is giving me a headache," Sara said as she and Nick reviewed evidence together. "At this point, all I see is one more reason to avoid getting married."

"Oh, come on," Nick said. "Where's your sense of romance?"

"I think I left it at the door when I walked into the lab," Sara replied, smirking at him. "It's not exactly something I need to do this job."

Nick laughed. "Not planning to let Greg seduce you?"

"Not today," Sara said, pursing her lips to fight the smile that wanted to burst forth. "Seriously, Nicky, this divorce is horrific. These two people who vowed to love each other forever are spending a fortune to tear each other apart. Where is the sense in that?"

Nick shrugged. "I guess some people just can't make it work."

"Yeah, well, I think that's something I'd want to be sure of _before_ walking down the aisle."

"Most people would agree with you on that," Nick said. He shook his head. "Call me old-fashioned, but, what's the point in making the commitment if you're not willing to see it through?"

"There are plenty of good reasons," Sara said.

"Sure," Nick agreed. "I just think there are a lot of people who aren't willing to try to make it work. Look at my parents. They've been married for forty years, and they're still going strong."

Sara smiled, picking up yet another legal document to read through. "That's great, Nicky."

"What about your parents? Are they still married?"

Sara glanced up from her reading. "My mother is a widow," she said shortly, dropping her eyes back to the document in her hands.

"Oh," Nick said, his face falling. "Oh, man, Sara, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's fine," she said. "I don't like to talk about it, so I never told anyone. It's not your fault."

"Right," he said. "I am sorry, though – about your father, and about bringing it up."

She finally looked up at him, giving him a smile. "It's fine, Nick. We're fine. No worries."

"You're sure?"

"Very sure."

Realizing that the discussion was over, Nick picked up their reports from Hodges to read, hoping to find something they had missed.

* * *

In the end, it was the Tinsleys' custody battle that had killed them. They had agreed to let the dog decide with which of her "parents" she would make her home. She chose Lori, who had smeared bacon grease under her nails to attract the dog. Heartbroken over his dog, Michael had bought a second golden retriever, intending to switch her for Kahlua. He broke into the house to make the switch, and everything went wrong.

The alarm went off, alerting Lori to his presence. After a heated argument, she had pulled a gun on him, shooting a bullet through his nose and into his brain.

The bang of the gun had set off the second dog, who had likely been abused in the past. She attacked Lori, ripping her throat apart and severing her jugular, then took off out the open back door. Kahlua tried to help her owners, explaining the blood on her, before hiding in her crate when the police arrived.

"Thank goodness these two didn't have children," Sara said as she and Nick finished their final report. "Can you even imagine how that would have gone?"

"What do you think Lori would have put under her nails to attract them when they had to decide which parent to live with?" Nick asked with a rather devious smile.

Sara laughed. "I'm trying to be serious!"

"Sadly, so am I," Nick said with a chuckle. "I'm sure they wouldn't have been any more mature about a child custody battle than they were about deciding the custody of their dog."

"Some people aren't meant to be parents," Sara sighed.

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "It's always nice when they figure that out before they have kids."

Sara shook her head as she closed their files. "I'll take these to Grissom. If you want to get out of here, go ahead."

"You're sure?" Nick said. "I can turn them in if you want."

"No, it's fine."

"Thanks, Sar," Nick said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll be here."

With a last wave, Nick took his leave. Sara gathered up everything she had to give Grissom, and made her way to his office.

His door was open; he was seated at his desk, flipping through a book. She knocked lightly on the door as she entered.

"Hey," she said.

Grissom looked up, a spark of happiness jumping into his eyes. "Hi," he said. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in a few days."

Sara smiled. "Nick and I have been busy with that case you gave us. But, we just wrapped it." She dropped their files on his desk. "Here you go. Final reports finished and signed."

"Thanks," Grissom said. "Have a seat."

Sara nodded and sat down across from him. "What are you reading?"

"Medical textbook," he said, holding up the book for her to read the cover. "The vic in the case Catherine and I were working suffered from Prader-Willi syndrome. I was just reading a bit more about it."

"You wrapped your case, then?"

"Yeah. Although there was some negligence involved, it was essentially accidental. The guy ate himself to death as a result of his medical condition."

Sara made a face. "Well, that's appetizing."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "Look, I know I promised we could do dinner the next time we were both free, but would you mind if we didn't eat? I really just don't think I could stomach it right now."

Sara laughed. "I thought you had the iron-clad stomach. I've seen you eat after working a _decomp_!"

"Yeah, well, this one was worse than a decomp. I think that Catherine's sworn off food forever after going to that hotdog eating competition."

"Ugh, I _hate_ competitive eating," Sara said. "It's the most disgusting thing …"

"Talk to Catherine," Grissom said. "Anyway, about what I said …"

"That's fine," Sara said. "Wanna come over and watch a movie?"

"Sounds great," Grissom said. "Are you leaving now?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll be about twenty minutes behind you."

"You're not ready to leave?"

"I have one stop to make first."

"Okay," Sara smiled, getting up from her chair. "I'll see you in a little bit, then."

She left his office and the lab quickly. She had quite a bit to do to get ready for her date with her boyfriend.

* * *

Sara rushed home, hoping that she could win herself slightly more than the twenty minutes Grissom had promised. Even though she knew that it was clean, she gave the apartment a quick once-over, making sure that nothing was too terribly out of place. She took the time to light the scented candles she kept in strategic places throughout her home, and dimmed the lights to an appropriate movie-watching level. Then she dashed into her bedroom to change. Gone were the clothes she had worn to work, replaced by her favorite jeans and a white t-shirt.

She had just pulled her shirt over her head her doorbell rang. Running her hands through her hair to tame it, she hurried across the apartment to open the door.

Grissom stood in her doorway, looking, in Sara's mind, incredibly sexy. He had changed before leaving work; he, too, was wearing jeans. Apparently, his "one stop" had been to the liquor store; he was carrying a bottle of white wine.

"Your aversion to food doesn't extend to alcohol?" Sara asked as he walked in.

"Not to wine," he replied, leaning in to drop a kiss on her cheek. "You look lovely."

"So do you," she said, closing the door behind him. "I love you in those jeans."

"I was thinking the same thing about you."

Sara smiled and led him inside. She took the wine from him, detouring into the kitchen to chill it.

"I'm going to put this in the freezer to speed up the process," she said. "Remind me it's there."

"Got it," he said, already in the living room studying her movie collection. "What are you in the mood to watch?"

She shrugged. "You can pick. I like them all."

He glanced up and smiled. "I'd hope so, since you own them."

Sara smiled and sat down on the couch, pulling her knees up under her chin. "What do you think about marriage?" she asked.

Grissom practically jumped as he turned to look at her. "What?"

"I don't mean us," she clarified. "I mean in general."

"Sara, what in the world are you talking about?" Grissom asked, abandoning his movie search to join her on the couch.

Sara sighed. "The victims in our case were a divorcing couple. They were engaged in a nasty property battle – fighting over everything from the house to the record collection to the dog. I just … I guess I don't understand why people put themselves through that."

Grissom was silent for a moment, considering her question. "I suppose it's because, once upon a time, they truly loved one another."

Sara sighed. "Maybe I'm cynical. Maybe I just didn't have the example of a loving relationship in my parents. I don't know. I just think that cases like this make me think that marriage isn't worth it."

"I don't think that," Grissom said. "I think it's worth it … if you find the right person, and if you're willing to make it work."

"Those are the keys, I suppose," Sara said. "My parents didn't find the right people. They were a mess. Even if you take away the abuse, I'm not entirely positive they were right for each other."

Grissom nodded slowly. "And Catherine and Eddie weren't willing to make it work," he said. "There was no abuse there, and, even Catherine will tell you that she loved him up until he died. I know she wonders what it could have been like if they had truly devoted all their time and energy to saving their marriage. She probably always will."

"I don't know," Sara sighed. "I guess I still don't think …"

"Hey," Grissom said, tipping her chin up so that he could look into her eyes, "listen to me."

Sara looked at him, silently urging him to continue.

"As terrible as your parents' marriage was, and as horribly as it ended – and, as much of your life as it destroyed – I'm _glad_ it happened."

Sara frowned.

"If they hadn't been married," he said, "they would never have had you. If they hadn't been together, sweetheart, you wouldn't exist. And, Sara, without you, I wouldn't …"

He trailed off, unable to put into words all that he was thinking, and more importantly, all that he was _feeling_. Sara seemed to get the message, though, as she smiled and cradled his face in her hands.

"Gil, that is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me." She leaned in to place a gentle kiss against his lips. "Thank you."

He smiled and kissed her again. Not for the first time with Sara, he found that actions spoke far louder than words.


	44. Questions of Family

* * *

A/N: I know that this chapter is short, but it really accomplishes what I wanted it to. I don't believe in writing more for the sake of having length. Quality over quantity, right? I really hope you like it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration is taken from episode 610, "Still Life."

* * *

_Questions of Family_

From the moment he got the call, Grissom knew it would be a difficult case. Kidnappings always were.

As he drove to the playground where the little boy had gone missing to meet Brass and Warrick and to begin the investigation, Sara's words from over a year ago floated through his head. _There are some places where kids should be safe. Not just _feel_ safe, but _be_ safe._ In Grissom's opinion, a visit to the local playground with one's mother was one of those places.

Karen Matthews, the little boy's mother, was completely distraught. Grissom had expected no less. He had no words of comfort to offer her. In a crowded, open area without surveillance, he knew that their job would be difficult at best.

Warrick volunteered to call in the rest of the team. Grissom nodded his approval, knowing that they'd need the help. He just hoped that, together, they'd be able to work quickly enough to find the child before something horrible happened to him.

Sara and Greg arrived first. Grissom met them as they ducked under the yellow crime scene tape blocking off the playground.

"Hi," Sara said. "Warrick said we've got a missing child?"

"Yes," Grissom affirmed. "Jesse Matthews. Six years old. His mother said he was playing on the swings, she looked away for a moment, and he disappeared."

Greg shook his head. "You know, cases like this convince me not to have children."

"You can have children, Greg," Sara said. "You just need to keep an eye on them. Why would she let a six-year-old swing by himself?"

"Children need to learn independence," Grissom said. His tone was mild, but he was unable to mask the concern in his eyes.

Greg looked around the park. "What do you think our chances are?"

"Same as they are with every kidnapping," Grissom said. "The longer it takes, the less likely we are to find the child."

"What do you need us to do?" Sara asked.

"Get started here, on the playground," Grissom said. "Warrick's already in the restroom; Nick and Catherine can branch out into the park when they get here."

"They're about ten minutes behind us," Greg offered. He glanced between Grissom and Sara for a moment, then stepped back. "I'm going to get started."

Sara nodded. "I'll join you in a minute."

He gave her a small smile, and walked toward the monkey bars.

Sara pushed her sunglasses up into her hair to look Grissom in the eye. "How are you?" she asked quietly.

Grissom smiled slightly. "It's just a case, Sara."

"Griss …"

"I'll be fine."

Without another word, he walked away. Sara sighed, and went to join Greg.

* * *

They were too late.

Not a few minutes, or a few hours, or even a few days too late. As the case unfolded, the entire team was shocked to discover that they were four _years_ too late in their search for Jesse Matthews.

At the tender age of two, Jesse had lost his father. A solider, Dwight Matthews had been killed in combat in Afghanistan. Karen, already no stranger to mental imbalance, lost touch with reality. In a decision that Grissom and Catherine theorized was to save her son from the "horrible fate" of following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather by becoming a solider, she poisoned her son with her antipsychotic drugs and buried his body in her backyard. However, after the neighbor's dog discovered the body, she moved it to an unknown location.

Her grip on reality slipping even further, Karen created an alternate life for herself and her son. In her mind, Jesse was still alive, a normal six-year-old. She told Catherine that he was home schooled; she had an entire houseful of pictures, toys and clothes to attest to his existence.

Her fantasy revolved around online pictures she had found of another little boy, Adam Esposito. When she saw the second boy in the park, she immediately thought that he was Jesse. Seeing him leave with his father, she assumed that her son had been kidnapped, and called the police.

Grissom could scarcely believe all the twists involved in this case. Despite all his years as a CSI, people never ceased to amaze him.

What bothered him the most was that Jesse had suffered at the hands of his own mother. He had used the literary reference of Medea killing her children to save them from a worse fate while talking to Brass and Catherine about the case. Catherine had seemed to understand, saying that Karen did not want the life of a solider for her son. Brass had shrugged off Grissom's attempt at explanation, stating that it was still murder.

Grissom found himself becoming more and more confused by the whole thing. On one hand, he could see the point that both Euripides and Catherine had made. On the other, Brass was right. It was murder. The murder of an innocent two-year-old by his own mother.

Sara found him in his office, staring at the pictures that Karen Matthews had photo shopped of herself with Adam. She walked in and sat down across from him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Grissom looked up at her and blinked. "Yeah," he said slowly.

Sara cocked her head to the side. "Really? Is it still _just a case_?"

"You know it's not. It never was." He sighed. "Will you come home with me?"

"Yeah," Sara agreed, standing up. "Let's go."

* * *

Sara arrived at Grissom's house just behind him. He was climbing out of his car as she parked. He waited until she had caught up with him, grabbing her hand as soon as she was close enough to touch.

He was silent as they walked into the house. He pulled her to the couch, wrapping his arm around her as soon as they sat down. Sara snuggled close to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

They sat quietly for a long time, both processing what had happened. Knowing that Grissom needed her far more than she needed him, Sara remained silent. It wasn't that she was callous or unfeeling toward children; she always hated the cases that involved them. It was that Grissom always felt them that much more than she did. Somehow, the man who always preached emotional detachment could never totally detach from a case that involved a child.

He knew his weakness as well as Sara did. He had to admit that it was an immense relief to have her next to him, knowing that she understood exactly how she felt. Of all his team, Sara was the one who had the most trouble detaching from a case. She could certainly feel his pain.

Grissom knew that he needed to talk about the case. Hard experience had taught him that internalizing his feelings led him to a place where he was liable to explode. He could still remember shoving a cart full of DNA samples down the hall to force Greg to process the samples from his case to prove who had killed a baby. He didn't want to go back to that place again. He knew that with Sara as such a huge part of his life, he would never have to. She would always be there to listen and to help him deal with their cases.

Finally ready to talk about all that had happened, he broke the silence.

"Have you ever wanted to have a baby? To be a parent?"

Sara jerked upright and looked at him with shock written plainly on her face. She swallowed, recovering slightly. "I've always thought that marriage should come before children."

"I wasn't …"

"Oh," Sara said quietly. She took his hand. "You're thinking about Karen, aren't you?"

Grissom nodded. "Well, maybe not. I was thinking more about Jesse."

Grissom lapsed into silence again. After spending nearly a year in an intimate relationship with him, Sara knew better than to try to draw him out. He would tell her what was on his mind when he was ready. She sat next to him, running her fingertips over the back of the hand she held in hers.

"That poor little boy went through hell," Grissom said at last. "He lost his father to the war, then he lost his mother to mental health issues. He was an orphan even before his mother chose to end his life."

Sara tightened her grip on his hand.

"I guess … I sort of understand what that must have been like for him."

"What do you mean, Gil?" Sara asked quietly.

He swallowed. "My dad died when I was nine," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. "He just … fell asleep on the couch one afternoon, and never woke up. I was right there, sitting on the floor, watching tv, and I didn't realize what had happened. I didn't realize that my father had died.

"My mom found him when she came in to bring us drinks. She … freaked out." He looked at Sara with bright eyes. "Have you ever heard a deaf person scream?"

She shook her head.

"It's a heartbreaking sound. I only ever heard it from her that once." He shook his head. "Maybe that was why it was so heartbreaking – because it was _her_ screaming. My mom. She was always so tough…it was terrifying to see her scared like that. I'll never forget it." He paused. "No one would tell me what had happened. My mom sent me to my room and ran to the neighbors' house for help. The neighbors came over. Mr. Watson called an ambulance and Mrs. Watson came upstairs to tell me to stay in my room for a while longer. By the end of the night, our house was full of people.

"My mom finally came up to get me. She told me that my dad had died, but that was all. She wouldn't tell me _why_. She wouldn't explain it to me. She just kept telling me that he was in heaven, and that that was all I needed to know.

"But, it wasn't. I wanted to know what had happened to make my dad leave us."

"You needed closure," Sara said quietly.

Grissom nodded. "Maybe it's why I fight so hard to give the victims' families closure. I don't know. All I do know is that until I was thirteen, I had no idea why my father had died. For the first year after it happened, I was afraid to sleep. I was afraid I'd never wake up. My mom … didn't want to talk about it.

"I get it now, you know. I know that she was mourning, and that she barely knew what to do with her own feelings, let alone mine. But, still … for the longest time, it was almost as though both of my parents were gone." He paused. "She told me years later that I was the reason she made it through the first few months. She got out of bed and tried to make every day normal for my sake." He smiled sadly. "I didn't tell her that those first few months were the _least_ normal time in my entire life."

"Losing a loved one is traumatic," Sara said. "You don't know how to act, or what to think … you almost forget who you are."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "But, kids like Jesse … they're so vulnerable. They need the adults in their lives to take care of them. To try to make things normal for them. Even though she was falling apart, my mother at least _tried_ to make our lives something like they had always been. Karen didn't do that for Jesse. Rather than to make his life as good as it could be, she took it from him."

"She was out of her mind, Griss. You've seen her medical records."

"Does that excuse her?" he asked, a spark of anger jumping into his eyes. "Does that make it right?"

"I think that her lawyer will argue that it does," Sara said evenly. "You know that as well as I do. But, I also think that she'll spend quite a bit of time in an institution. Maybe she'll finally get the help she needs. Maybe she'll finally be able to lay Jesse to rest."

Grissom shook his head. "She shouldn't have to lay him to rest. And, neither should his grandparents."

Sara sighed and laid her head against his shoulder again. "People do awful things, Gil. We see that every single day. You're the one who always says that we see people on the worst days of their lives. Our job is to help figure out what happened to bring them to that point. It's to bring closure."

"What closure did we find in this case?"

"We found closure for Jesse's grandparents."

"They didn't even know they needed it. As far as they were concerned, Jesse was a normal six-year-old who was being kept from them by his mother."

"At least now they know why."

He sighed and ran his fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry, Sara. I guess I just …"

"Let yourself become emotionally involved?"

"Yeah," he nearly whispered.

She smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "No apology necessary. I don't like to see you in pain, but I do like to see you let your emotions rule every once in awhile. It makes for a nice change."

He smiled ruefully. "You know, when I was a teenager, I thought I'd want to have kids."

"Really?" Sara asked, rather surprised by his confession.

"Yeah. I had always liked them. I babysat for the neighbors' kids when I was in high school and for the first couple summers home from college. Then, the kids got older and my mom asked me to help out at the gallery, and I just sort of … forgot."

"You forgot to like kids?"

"No, I still liked them. I forgot about wanting kids of my own. A family of my own. I became so immersed in my academics that getting married became the last thing on my mind. By the time I started working in crime labs, it was all a distant memory."

"Are you saying that that's changed now?"

He exhaled. "Having a child is the most awesome responsibility I can imagine. With all that we see every day… the idea is terrifying."

"Yeah," Sara said quietly. "I don't know how Catherine does it."

"You should see all the information she has on Lindsey. Within moments, she can provide you with a list of all her after school activities, her friends and their contact information, her fingerprints, her DNA …"

"Any parent can give you a kid's toothbrush."

Grissom shook her head. "She keeps a vial of Lindsey's blood in her freezer."

Sara's eyes widened in shock.

"But, even with all there is to fear … I know that she loves Lindsey with everything in her, and that she'd never go back and erase her from her life."

"Gil … are you saying that you want to have a baby?" Sara asked slowly.

He shrugged. "I don't know what I'm saying. I do know that I'm not making much sense anymore."

Sara shook her head. "I think you're making sense."

"Do you?"

She nodded. "Having kids is terrifying … but, it's worth the risk."

It was Grissom's turn to look at her with wide eyes. "Are you saying …?"

"All I'm willing to say right now is that I like being your girlfriend," Sara said with a smile. "All other conversations regarding things that may or may not eventually become a part of our relationship are officially shelved."

Grissom smiled and hugged her close. "Fair enough."

"But …"

He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

Sara smiled slightly. "If I ever were to have children," she said, her voice just above a whisper, "I'd want you to be their father."


	45. Keeping Secrets

A/N: Well, I'm a day late. Throw in the dollar short, and you'll pretty much sum up my last week! But, this short, fluffy little chapter is finally done and ready for your perusal. I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 611, "Werewolves."

* * *

_Keeping Secrets_

"Hey, sexy," Sara said as she walked into Grissom's house.

He smiled as he kissed her hello. "Hi."

Sara stepped away from him slightly and handed over the flowers she was holding. "I brought you a present."

Grissom gave her a bemused smile as he took the flowers. "Isn't the man supposed to bring the woman flowers? Is this a hint that I don't get you flowers often enough?"

"No," Sara laughed. "I'm trying to bring some life into this place."

"What's that supposed to mean? I've got plenty of _life_ in here."

"Dead butterflies in a case don't count as _life_."

Grissom made a face. "I won't tell the butterflies how you feel about them."

Sara laughed and followed him into the kitchen, where he began the search for a vase for the flowers.

"We're cutting this close, you know," she commented. "We have to be at work in two hours."

"I know," he replied, putting the flowers in their vase and setting in on the counter. "But, I wanted to see you. We haven't had dinner together in ages."

"Or, five days," Sara said with a grin.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Do you want to eat with me or not?"

"You know I do," Sara replied with a warm smile.

"Come on, then. Your eggplant parmesan awaits."

Dinner, as Sara had anticipated, was delicious. Grissom was a fantastic cook. Once they had finished their meal, she volunteered to clean up. Surprisingly, Grissom agreed. He helped her carry the plates to the sink, then went to the task of wrapping up the leftover food while she took care of the dishes.

Sara stood at the sink, rinsing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher and humming to herself. Generally oblivious to all life around her, she was shocked when Grissom's hands found a place on her hips. She gasped and whirled around to face him, letting the plate in her hands slide into the sink.

"Are you trying to scare me to death?"

"No," he chuckled. "Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy you are when you do that?"

"Do what? Wash dishes?"

"Mm-hm. And hum to yourself."

Sara laughed. "You are so strange. Who on earth would find that sexy?"

"I would."

He leaned down to kiss her, and all thoughts of dishes were gone.

They had made their way to the bedroom before his cell phone started to ring. He groaned and lifted his lips from her neck.

"Ignore it," Sara nearly begged, putting her hands on his shoulders to pull him back down on top of her.

"I can't."

"Why not? You're not on call tonight."

"No, that's not a call. That's the alarm."

Sara groaned and let her head drop back against the bed. "We have to go to work, don't we?"

"Yes."

"You know, I hate this job."

Grissom laughed. "Yes, dear. I know." He got up off the bed. "We'd better get ready. I hear your supervisor gets angry if his team arrives late."

"Well," Sara said as she climbed off the bed, "I'll just tell him that I was on the brink of having sex with my boyfriend, but that he rudely interrupted us." She stepped close enough to whisper in his ear. "I'll tell him that it's his fault that I'll be completely turned on all night."

Grissom groaned. "Sara …"

"I know," she sighed, stepping back. "Come on. Let's go."

* * *

Sara had to admit that it was something of a relief to work a homicide – at least it took her mind off … other things. The fact that Grissom was working with her was a bit distracting, but he returned to the lab with the body, leaving her and Warrick to process the house.

They were soon joined by Nick and Catherine. In Sara's opinion, it was a bit of an overkill to have so many CSIs working on a single homicide. But, she was astute enough to recognize the benefits: with so many of them working, they'd likely solve the case faster – and, perhaps even get to leave work on time. With any luck, she and Grissom would be able to find the time to finish what they had started before work.

Their victim was Hayden Ludford, a man who had suffered from "human werewolf syndrome," which caused him to have an unusually large amount of body hair. Perhaps in a twisted form of poetry, he had been killed by a silver bullet.

For as much as evidence they found at first, the case seemed to slow down quickly. Catherine and Nick had found a gun at the scene; Bobby proved that it had not been used to kill their victim. Nick had found a fingerprint on a rock outside a broken window; that lead only took him to Hayden's best friend, who explained that they had broken the window playing catch.

Feeling like they were getting nowhere fast, the team agreed to leave after working a double. Hopefully, the next shift would bring them closer to their killer.

Sara was nearly to her car when she heard her name called from behind her. Smiling as she recognized his voice, she turned to see Grissom following her.

"Hey," she said with a grin as he stopped in front of her.

"You were leaving without saying good bye?" he asked, looking slightly hurt.

"No, of course not," she replied. She gave him a seductive smile. "I just sort of assumed that you'd follow me home … to finish what we started yesterday …"

Grissom grinned. "I'll be right behind you."

"That's what you think," Sara laughed. "I can drive pretty quickly when I want to."

"I can drive just as quickly when I have something like this to look forward to."

"You horny bastard," Sara whispered, giggling.

"Hey, you were the one who said you'd be turned on all night." He raised an eyebrow. "Were you?"

"I still am."

Grissom groaned. "Okay. Let's go."

The trip to Sara's apartment, which normally took about twenty minutes, was made in less than fifteen. The trip from their cars to Sara's bedroom was made in less than five.

Once they were in the bedroom, however, Grissom slowed them down. Sara groaned in frustration at his slow, gentle movements as he unbuttoned her shirt.

"What the hell are you doing?" she moaned.

"Do you really need an answer to that?"

"Why are you doing it so slowly?"

"Shhh," he whispered against her skin. "We're not in a hurry. We have all the time in the world."

"Is that supposed to mean that I have to _want_ to wait?"

"You need to learn patience," Grissom laughed.

"And you need to learn the value of instant gratification."

He laughed again. "There's no such thing. Besides, waiting for it makes it that much better."

"Whatever. Just kiss me."

"Gladly."

As his lips descended onto hers, all coherent thought was lost. It was just the two of them, adrift in a sea of emotions and passion.

* * *

Several hours later, Sara woke with a start. She jerked upright in bed, her eyes flying wide open.

"Shit!"

Her exclamation and sudden movement startled Grissom awake. "What's wrong?" he asked groggily.

"I'm on call!"

"So?" he yawned, rolling over. "I never heard your phone ring."

"That's because I left it on vibrate," Sara said, jumping out of bed. "Damn it, Grissom, where are my pants?"

"How would I know? They're your pants, not mine."

"Yeah, but you're the one who took them off and threw them halfway across – oh, there they are." She picked up the errant garment and pulled her cell phone off the belt. "Oh, shit, I have a voicemail."

"So, listen to it."

She rolled her eyes at him as she pressed the button to call her voicemail. "You are so abrupt when you're half asleep."

_You have one new message, received from Sofia Curtis_.

"Uh-oh."

_Sara, hi, it's Sofia. We've managed to track the 911 call in our homicide to a phone booth. I'm waiting here now; I thought you'd want to process. It's at …_

Sara raced to grab a pen to write down Sofia's location. The message ended with the call time, nearly three hours prior. Sara groaned. Sofia was not going to be happy.

"What are you doing?" Grissom asked, opening his eyes slightly as Sara rushed around her room, trying to find something to wear.

"I have to go," she said. "Sofia just called me to process the phone booth where the 911 call about the wolfman was made."

"Must you call him that?"

She laughed. "Sorry. Too much time with Hodges and Archie. Anyway, I'm going to grab a quick shower, then I'll be out of here. Just lock up on your way out, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ugh. Don't ever call me that."

Grissom chuckled and closed his eyes again. "Have fun with Sofia, Sara."

"Oh, I will."

* * *

Sofia was waiting for her when Sara arrived, leaning up against the phone booth as though her sole mission in life was to hold it up. She looked … bored. Sara sighed as she grabbed her kit and climbed out of the car. After waiting that long for Sara to show up, Sofia was going to be angry. Sara had several options as to how she could deal with the situation, but she fell back on an old favorite: ignorance.

"Hey," Sara said as she approached.

"I've been waiting for you," Sofia said by way of greeting.

"Sorry," Sara replied, her expression reflecting perfect innocence. "I headed out as soon as I got your page."

"Really?" Sofia asked incredulously. "Because, I left a voicemail several hours ago."

_Yeah, I knew that. The phone tells me what time you called, you moron._

Choosing not to voice those thoughts, Sara forced her expression to remain neutral. "What's up?"

"The anonymous 911 call was tracked to this phone booth," Sofia explained. "I figured you'd want to process."

Sara stepped past Sofia to shine her flashlight into the phone booth. The appearance of the phone immediately caught her eye.

"There is … fingerprint powder on the phone?" she asked, the pitch of her voice rising slightly in a question. She didn't want to sound _too_ accusatory – Sofia was already irritated enough.

"Yeah, I got bored waiting," Sofia said. "I thought you might need some help."

_Grissom, Grissom, Grissom._ Only the thought of her boyfriend kept her from verbally tearing Sofia apart. Sara needed to be kind enough to keep Sofia from probing deeper into her whereabouts. The last thing she and Grissom needed was for it to get out that their relationship was far more than that of a supervisor and a CSI.

"No usable prints," Sofia continued, "but, check out the floor."

Feeling more and more resentful of being told how to do her job, Sara turned around and shone her flashlight onto the phone booth floor. It was covered in hair.

"It's a lot of hair," she said, kneeling down for a better look. "Similar hair to the crime scene."

"The victim was killed twelve hours before this call was made," Sofia said. "If that's his hair … what was it doing here?"

Sara turned between Sofia and the hair. "I don't know," she said. "It just … well, it _has_ to be his, right? I mean, who else would have hair like this … this _much_ hair like this?"

"Hey, I'm not doubting you," Sofia said. "I can't put it together, either.

Sara opened her kit to being documenting and collecting her evidence. "I'll get it back to the lab," she said. "Maybe Wendy can help us out."

* * *

It took both Wendy and Catherine to put it all together. The hair did not, in fact, belong to their victim. Rather, it belonged to his twin sister. The poor girl's condition was even worse than her brother's; hair covered her entire body, even growing thickly all over her face.

Allison had spent nearly her entire life as a prisoner inside her own house. Because of her appearance, she was ashamed to be seen outside; she was dependent upon her brother for all her contact with the larger world. It took Catherine some time to win her trust, but Allison proved to be their only witness to the crime.

After quite a bit of prompting, she stated that she had seen Hayden's best friend kill him. During his second interrogation, Brent Martin finally admitted that he had killed Hayden to keep him from marrying his sister, Michelle.

Perhaps the most upsetting part of the case came after it had been closed. Allison had told Catherine that her mother had died when she and Hayden were teenagers. However, a bit of clever searching proved that she had not. Rather, she had abandoned her children. Hayden knew the truth, but Allison had been told that her mother had been killed in a car accident.

Grissom contacted the woman to tell her that her son had died and her daughter was alone in the world. She came to the crime lab to find out what had happened, and to explain why she had left.

"So, wait," Sara said as Grissom recounted the story to her in the comfort of his living room. "She left her children because of their condition?"

"Yes and no," Grissom said. "She had dealt with their condition, but she couldn't handle the restrictions she had to put on Allison. She left because she had locked her teenager in her bedroom to keep her from going for a walk outside."

Sara shuddered. "Honestly, Griss, I don't know what's worse: the fact that society is so unaccepting that she felt the need to lock her up to begin with, or the fact that she let her daughter think that she was dead rather than continue to lock her up."

Grissom shrugged. "It didn't help her much, did it? Even after she had left, Allison remained locked away from the world. She and Hayden worked together to keep her existence a secret."

Sara shook her head. "What would you have done, if you were part of the family?"

"I'm not sure," Grissom said honestly. "History is full of stories of hidden heirs and siblings … I suppose it could appeal to one's sense of romantic adventure."

"You'd lock your child up in her room to keep her away from society?"

"What would you do?" he asked, turning the tables on her. "Remember, Sara, you can't make the other first graders play with your daughter. You have to pick up the pieces every time her heart is broken by a child's vicious words."

"We all have quirks that keep us out of the sandbox," she said. "That doesn't mean that we all hide from the outside world."

"Oh, I don't know," Grissom said, wrapping his arms around her. "I think we do a pretty good job of hiding."

"That's different," Sara said, running her fingertips over his forearm.

"Oh? How so?"

"We're consenting adults who agreed to live this way." She turned to press a kiss against his cheek. "And, to be honest, I rather like it."

"Does it appeal to your sense of romantic adventure?" he asked with a mischievous smile.

"Well, certainly my sense of romance."

"Mine, too." He kissed her once, then looked into her eyes. "If it didn't have to be like this … would you want everyone to know?"

"I don't know," Sara said. "To be honest, Gil, I kind of like that we're keeping this to ourselves. It makes it … special."

He smiled. "I like it, too. I don't want to have to share you with anyone."


	46. Tradition

I don't own CSI

A/N: Happy Mothers' Day to all the moms! Consider this your gift from me.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is taken from episode 612, "Daddy's Little Girl." It should also be noted that, while I do have a Hungarian grandmother, she's never taught me to spell in Hungarian. Since that language is like none I've ever seen, I'm not sure about my spelling of the name of the cookies Grissom references. I took the spelling from "June Meyer's Authentic Hungarian Heirloom Recipe Homepage." If you speak (and spell) Hungarian and know it's wrong, please correct me!

* * *

_Tradition_

For nearly two weeks, she tried to deny it. It just didn't seem possible that it could happen already.

But, then the decorations, the music and the sales became too much to ignore. It was true.

The Christmas season had arrived.

Sara hated Christmas. It wasn't that she was Grinch-like about it; she had no problems with others' celebrations. She would never try to take the holiday away from anyone. She just wasn't willing to celebrate it herself.

She tried to use her job as an excuse to explain her reluctance to celebrate: After working as a CSI for so many years, she was well-aware of the spike in fatal "accidents" associated with the holidays. Too much family togetherness combined with too much alcohol often had tragic results.

But, she knew that her job had very little to do with it. It was more about the memories of the Christmases she had "celebrated" as a little girl – the Christmases she'd like nothing more than to forget.

* * *

"What are you doing before work tomorrow?"

Sara shrugged, even though Grissom couldn't see it over the phone. "No plans," she said, verbalizing her answer. "Why?"

"Well, I'd like for you to do something with me."

"Of course I will," she said without hesitation. "What?"

The excitement in Grissom's voice carried over the phone to her. "We're going to get a Christmas tree!"

"A Christmas tree?" Sara asked blankly.

"Yes!" Grissom said, his childlike excitement not the least bit dispelled by her obvious lack of enthusiasm. "Christmas is a week away. This is the perfect time to get it."

"Wait … you mean a _live_ tree, don't you?"

"Of course," Grissom replied, shocked that she would even have to ask. "Do you have an artificial one?"

"No, I … I don't have a Christmas tree at all."

"What?" He paused. "Don't you celebrate Christmas?"

"Well, I don't have a problem with it as a holiday," Sara said. "But … I've never been a big fan of it." She fell back on her favorite excuse. "At this point, all I see is the number of people who use it as an excuse to drink and harm others."

"That's a rather pessimistic approach," Grissom said. His tone was mild, but it was clear that he was not going to let this go easily.

"Maybe," Sara said noncommittally. "But, look, if it's important to you, I'll go with you to get the tree. What time?"

"I'll pick you up at one," Grissom said. "That should give us plenty of time to get a tree and set it up."

"And decorate it?"

"Of course."

Sara smiled slightly in spite of herself. He really was excited about this. And, surprisingly, she found herself wanting to share in his excitement. Maybe it would help to banish her memories of Christmases past.

"Sara? Is one okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'll be waiting."

* * *

Promptly at one o'clock, Sara heard Grissom's key turning in her lock. She made her way across the living room as he opened the door and walked in, his face lit up by a beaming smile.

"Hi," he said cheerfully.

"Hi," Sara replied, crossing the room to kiss him. She smiled at his warm jacket. "Is it that cold out?"

"Well, we could be out for awhile," he said. "You never know how long it will take to find the perfect tree."

Sara smiled again. "Let me get my coat."

"This is going to be so much fun," Grissom said, helping Sara pull on her jacket. "Did you have live Christmas trees when you were a little girl?"

"No," Sara said shortly. She coaxed forth a smile. "This will be my first time."

Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Are you suggesting that I'm taking your Christmas tree virginity?"

Sara smiled. "Yes, I am."

"Why do I suddenly feel a little bit dirty?"

Sara laughed and took his hand. "Come on. Teach me, Christmas Tree Master."

Grissom laced his fingers through hers as they walked out of her apartment. "I'd love nothing more."

* * *

Grissom took her to his favorite Christmas tree vendor, who had set up temporary shop in a parking lot. Sara had driven past lots like this before, but had never actually entered one; she stopped to look around as they reached the first row of trees. She inhaled deeply, appreciating the smell of so much pine in such a small area.

"Are you ready for your Christmas tree education?" Grissom asked.

"Yes," Sara replied, smiling at him.

"We're looking for a tree that's full, but not _too_ full. It can have a maximum of _one_ noticeable hole in its branches – we can turn that side toward the wall. If it's more than a foot taller than I am, it will be too tall for the house … but, if it's perfect in all other ways, we'll look to see if we can cut some off at the bottom to make it shorter. Oh, and you want to look at the trunk. If it's not straight, the tree will likely topple over."

Sara looked at him with wide eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"How on earth can you put that much effort into something that you're going to throw away?"

He smiled. "It's Christmas, my dear. This is what it's all about. Come on, let's go find a tree."

As they walked around the lot, searching through the trees, a bit of Grissom's excitement began to seep into Sara. Before long, she found herself offering opinions on the trees he selected, and even selecting a few herself. Realizing that she was falling into the spirit of the game, Grissom smiled to himself. He wanted this to be fun for her.

After talking to her the day before, he knew that her issues with Christmas ran far deeper than she had been willing to admit to him. He hoped that she would trust him enough to open up about whatever it was that bothered her so much. And, even if she didn't want to talk to him, he at least wanted her to see the holiday for what it was: a time for joy, for peace and for love.

His smile deepened as he observed Sara studying a tree, thinking of how much fun it would be to decorate it with her. He had the sudden, almost irrational desire to spend every Christmas for the rest of his life with her.

"Gil," she called, turning to him with a smile, "come and look at this one! I think I've found it!"

He started toward her, a smile lighting up his face as he looked at her. The full excitement of the day had finally gotten to her; her face was lit up with a beaming smile. She was holding a branch of the tree possessively with one hand, while the other brushed her breeze-tossed hair out of her face.

"Look," she said as he got closer. "It's it great?"

As he saw the shadows of the excited little girl she must have been in her sparkling eyes, a wave of emotion swept over him. What he felt for her was so deep, deeper than anything he had ever felt for a woman before, and in that moment, he was almost willing to acknowledge it …

"Yeah," he said. "This is perfect."

She giggled. "Let's get it."

He smiled at her, intertwining his fingers with hers.

Perhaps – just perhaps – it was a time for love.

* * *

After finding the tree and driving it back to Grissom's house, setting it up was almost boring. Of course, the number of times that one of them caught it just before it fell over made it a bit more exciting, but still …

Sara was rather relieved when Grissom declared it secure.

"Now," he said eagerly, "let's start decorating."

"Do you have decorations?"

"Of course," he replied, pointing to a stack of boxes that Sara had not noticed. "Some are from when I was little, but most of them I've acquired since moving to Vegas."

"I suppose you have a story to go with each one," Sara teased.

Grissom made a face at her. "I don't need your cynical attitude."

"Are you saying you want me to go?" Sara asked, giving him an expression of wide-eyed innocence.

"You know I want you to stay," Grissom replied. "Come here and help me decorate this tree."

By the time they had to leave for work, Grissom's tree was a glittering masterpiece. Even Sara had to admit that it was pretty.

"Should we get you one next?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'll just have to spend plenty of time here, so I can enjoy yours."

Grissom smiled and kissed her cheek. "I like that idea."

"Me, too."

* * *

Working that night proved to be one of the most difficult experiences of Sara's career. Grissom's obvious love for Christmas had her reeling. She had moved beyond that idea that she would be celebrating the holiday for the first time since leaving foster care, and had moved on to panicking over another, extremely important aspect of the season.

After struggling to focus for eight hours, Sara was released. Thankful that she hadn't been working on anything that would require staying at the lab past her schedule shift, she raced home and placed a frantic phone call to Mary. The two rings it took her to answer seemed like forever.

"Hey, Sara."

"Mary, I need your help."

"With what?"

"Grissom likes Christmas."

Mary started laughing. "Oh, now, _there's_ a problem. The man likes a holiday. This could be a deal breaker. You'd better get out of this relationship now."

"Mary! Could you try being a little less sarcastic and a little more supportive?"

"Okay, hon, I'm sorry. What's the problem?"

"I don't know what to get him for Christmas."

Mary swallowed her laughter. "You do realize that you only have about a week left to shop, right?"

"Five days, to be exact. What should I get him?"

"I think that you know him a bit better than I do."

"You're not being very helpful. What did you get Tom for your first Christmas together?"

"You were there."

"You say that like I'd remember."

Mary sighed. "I got him a plane ticket to come home with me. I wanted him to meet my family."

"Oh," Sara said, her face falling. "Well, I can't exactly copy that one."

"I guess not," Mary said noncommittally. In all the years she had known Sara, she had never heard much about her friend's family. She knew that Sara's father was dead, that she didn't have siblings, and that she didn't keep in touch with her mother. Other than that, she was in the dark. "Um … what about a trip somewhere? Do you think you could do that?"

"Hey, yeah!" Sara said. "We've talked about going back to San Francisco … maybe I could make us reservations to go this summer."

"Do you think your boss would give you the time off?" Mary teased.

Sara laughed. "Well, if I requested the time far enough in advance, I suppose I might just be able to make it happen."

"So, that's what you're going to do?"

"Yeah," Sara said, finally feeling decisive. She smiled, willing to discuss other topics. "How's my Josie? Excited for her first Christmas?"

"Well, her parents certainly are," Mary laughed. "She'll definitely have a good one, even if she doesn't remember it."

"I'm sure she will," Sara said with a grin. "I'm sending her a present, but she's not allowed to open it till Christmas."

"I'll be sure to let her know," Mary said. "I just hope that she'll be able to wait."

"I hope that her mother will be able to wait," Sara replied. She sighed. "You need to bring her out here for a visit, Mar. I haven't seen you guys in ages."

"Maybe we will," Mary said thoughtfully. "We'll try to plan something for this summer, when Tom has time off."

"Oh, yes, please come!" Sara exclaimed. "I'd love it so much."

"So would I," Mary said with a sigh. "No promises, but … I'll see what I can do."

"I'll take that," Sara said. "For now."

* * *

The remaining days until Christmas passed quickly, and, before it seemed possible, it was Christmas Eve. Sara went to Grissom's house after work; he had promised to make her a special Christmas breakfast.

They talked about their case while he made the omelets and she cut the fruit for a salad. They weren't really interested in discussing the details of the case itself; they were both more obsessed with the threesome the victim and his two "lady friends" had apparently been having before his untimely death.

"Have you ever had a threesome?" Sara asked as she threw a handful of freshly washed grapes into the bowl she was using.

"Sara, please," Grissom said. "I wouldn't even share a dorm room in college. What makes you think I'd be willing to share a girlfriend?"

Sara laughed. "Fair point."

"Have you?" he asked curiously.

"No," she said. "I had a boyfriend in college who suggested it, but I wasn't too keen on the idea. The 'Mile High' thing was as wild as I was willing to get."

"Well, that certainly makes you wilder than me," Grissom said.

Sara laughed. "I'll do my best to loosen you up."

"I think you have loosened me up quite a bit already."

They both finished their tasks, and brought their breakfast to the table. As they ate, their conversation drifted away from work and to the other events that made up their lives.

After breakfast, they cleaned up together. Sara rinsed out the sink, and Grissom cleared his throat. Sara looked at him questioningly.

"I know it's only Christmas Eve, but we both have to work tonight, and I'm not sure when we'll get done tomorrow, so …"

"So?"

"I'd like to give you your present now," he said almost shyly.

Sara's face lit up with a smile. "I want to give you yours, too."

"Sara, you didn't have to …"

"Don't be silly," she said. "You know that I wanted to get you something as much as you wanted to get me something."

He smiled. "Okay."

They went to the living room together, and sat down on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. Grissom plugged in the lights so that it would glitter as they opened their gifts.

"I want you to open yours first," she said, picking up the box from under the tree and giving it to him. A nervous tingle shot through her. "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will," Grissom said, accepting the package.

He pulled off the paper and opened the box to reveal several sheets of paper. He took them out and began reading the itinerary for their trip to San Francisco. He looked up at her with wide eyes.

"We're going to San Francisco?"

Sara nodded. "For the Fourth of July. Do you like it?"

He leaned across to kiss her. "My darling, I love it. Thank you."

Sara grinned and kissed him again. "You're welcome."

He pulled away from her and picked up the other box under the tree. "Now, it's your turn."

Sara grinned and ripped off the paper. She opened the rectangular box and gasped. A silver necklace with a sapphire pendant – her birthstone – in the shape of a gerber daisy winked back up at her as it caught the light from the Christmas tree.

"Oh, Gil. It's too much."

"Nothing is too much for you," he said, smiling at the look on her face. He cleared his throat. "I gave you a gerber daisy once when I was afraid that you were walking out of my life forever. I wanted to give you this one to let you know how happy am I that you're still a part of it – a part of me."

With tears shining in her eyes, Sara leaned across to kiss him yet again.

"This has been my best Christmas Eve ever."

Grissom smiled and hugged her close. "And, we still have plenty of it left to go."

"Are you suggesting that you have other plans for us?"

Grissom nodded and stood up, pulling her to her feet. "We're going to make cookies."

"Cookies?"

"It's Christmas," he said. "You have to have Christmas cookies, right?"

"Sure," Sara said. "Are we making gingerbread men or something like that?"

"Actually, we're making csoroge."

"What?"

"Necktie cookies. My Hungarian grandmother used to make them every year for Christmas," Grissom explained. "So, this year, we're going to make them."

"Have you made them before?"

"No. But, Sara, they're just cookies, and we're both scientists. I'm sure we can figure it out."

"Okay," Sara agreed. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Apparently, replicating Grandma's cookies wasn't as easy as Grissom had hoped. They were never sure exactly what went wrong, but their cookies didn't turn out right at all. Of course, Sara, who had never had them before, had no idea what "right" meant. However, even she was certain that a fried cookie should not crumble the way these did.

"I don't know what we did wrong," Grissom said. "We followed the recipe."

"Yeah, but, sweetie, the recipe says things like 'a pinch' and 'till done.' And, she has things crossed out and written in the margins … and, I'm pretty sure that a lot of this is some hybrid of Hungarian and English. We can't be expected to fully interpret all your grandmother's notes."

"I suppose you're right," he sighed.

"Hey," Sara said. "There's a bakery not far from here. Have you ever looked for your cookies there?"

Grissom shook his head. "It's worth a shot, right?"

"Definitely."

"Let's go!"

An hour later, they were home again, clutching boxes of the cookies and a nut roll that Grissom insisted would make the perfect breakfast for Christmas morning.

As far as Sara was concerned, it had already been the perfect holiday. It got even better when Grissom took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

She would never look at Christmas Eve the same way again.

* * *

Far too soon, Sara was pulled from a dream by the sound of Grissom's alarm. She rolled over, amazed that it was already time for work.

"Go back to sleep," Grissom whispered, kissing her cheek. "You don't have to get up yet."

"Are you going in early?" she asked sleepily.

"No," he said.

"Then, why are you getting up?"

"I'm going to Mass."

Sara's eyes fully opened. "To Mass?"

He nodded. "It's Christmas Eve. I always go to church on Christmas Eve, if I can. I'm not sure I'll have time to go tomorrow."

"But, I thought …"

"Just go back to sleep," Grissom said. "We'll talk later."

Sara nodded, and let her eyes fall closed, extinguishing her confusion. She could worry about Grissom's sudden religious zeal later. For now, she wanted to sleep.


	47. Inadequate

A/N: If the last chapter was light and fluffy, this one is its antithesis. I hope you like it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 612, "Daddy's Little Girl."

* * *

_Inadequate_

Sara fell asleep while Grissom was in the shower, but woke up again when she heard him leave the bedroom. She thought about following him to say good bye before he left for church, but something stopped her.

She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the reason for her sudden feeling of discontent. Why should she be upset about anything? She had just shared the best Christmas Eve of her life with Grissom – her boyfriend, and, perhaps even more importantly, her best friend.

The longer she stayed in bed, lying still and dwelling on what could be bothering her, the stiffer her body became. It almost surprised her to realize that her eyes were screwed shut, and her hands were clenched into fists and pressed tightly to her sides. She opened her eyes and exhaled slowly as it all became clear.

She was waiting for the bottom to fall out of her perfect holiday.

And now, alone in Grissom's bed while he went to worship a God she did not truly believe existed, she felt that it had. He had left her. She wasn't enough to make his holiday perfect, the way he had hers.

Once again, she had to face facts. She wasn't good enough. Not good enough at all.

* * *

By the time Grissom returned from Mass, Sara was sitting in his living room, staring at the Christmas tree. He smiled as he closed the door and crossed to drop a kiss onto her head.

"Hi, honey. Have you had dinner?"

"No."

Grissom stopped at the stony tone of her voice and looked at her more closely. "Are you okay?"

"Not really."

"Will you tell me why?"

Sara finally looked up at him. "Why did you go to Mass?"

"Because it's Christmas," he said with a shrug.

"But, I thought you didn't do the whole 'Catholic' thing anymore."

Grissom frowned as he sat down next to her. "I went to church on Christmas Eve, Sara. I'm not sure I'd really call that a sin."

"I'm not saying that it is," she said. "I'm just wondering why, that's all." She gave him a guarded look. "I'm confused."

Grissom sighed. "I don't see why this is such a big deal."

"It's a big deal because you just gave me the best Christmas Eve of my entire life, and then you left me to go to some ridiculous service –"

"Stop," Grissom said, holding up a hand. "Stop it."

Sara raised her eyebrows.

"I think that we all have the right to live as we want to live, and to believe what we what to believe. You know that, right?"

Sara nodded. Grissom was by far the most open-minded, accepting person she had ever known.

"You are welcome to find my beliefs to be ridiculous," he said. "But, before you are allowed to make that judgment, you have to know what they are and what exactly it is that I did this evening. Until then, you do not have enough knowledge to deem anything 'ridiculous.'"

Feeling slightly abashed, Sara nodded. "Tell me. Explain to me what you did."

Grissom frowned. "You're still making it sound like a bad thing."

"It's a waste of time," Sara stated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I just don't see the point. I feel like you threw away some of the precious few hours that we have together … and, for what?"

"You're being ridiculous," Grissom said quietly.

"Oh, now I'm ridiculous?" Sara knew she was being irrational. She knew that she was picking a fight with Grissom not so much over what he had done, but more as an outlet for the anger that had been building deep inside her after years of terrible holidays.

"Yes," Grissom said simply. "I said I'd explain, but you haven't let me. You don't know that I go to Mass on Christmas every year because it's what my parents and I always did. You don't know that going to Midnight Mass is my mother's favorite part of the holiday, and that I took her every year until I moved here. You don't know how much the tradition of the holiday season means to me – has _always_ meant to me, especially since my father died. You don't know what it's like to be raised in a tradition that is so deep that it goes to your very soul. You don't know –"

"I don't know a lot of things about families," Sara said, her anger rising even more. "And, you, Grissom, are one of the only people on this entire planet who fully understands why. So, I think that it's a bit much for you to throw that up at me. Don't you?"

"You're right. That was unfair. But, you're being unfair, too! You have to understand –"

"I thought you just said that I couldn't understand. I don't know what it's like to have a real family, do I? I've always just been this misfit who didn't deserve a real Christmas –"

"_Yes_, you do!" Grissom interrupted. "Don't you see what I've tried to do for you, Sara? I've tried to bring you into my traditions, into my way of seeing the holidays. And, I thought you were really getting it. I thought you were having fun. I thought you could be a part of this. I thought I had finally found someone with whom I could share it. But, now …"

"But, now, what? Now, you see that I'm not good enough?"

"Now, I see that you obviously don't think you are."

His quiet words cut to her core, and tears welled up in her eyes. Seeing what he had done to her, Grissom's face fell.

"Oh, Sara. Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't mean …"

"It's fine," Sara said, wiping at her eyes. "I need to go home, anyway. I'll see you at work."

"Sara, wait. Don't leave when you're upset."

She shook her head. "I just really need to be alone right now."

Feeling powerless, Grissom watched as she grabbed her purse and almost stumbled out of his house.

* * *

Using nothing but sheer willpower, Sara managed to make it home before she completely broke down. Tears slid down her cheeks as she drove, but she kept herself in check.

But, once she was alone in her apartment with the door closed behind her, the tears turned to sobs.

She should have known that Grissom would say that she wasn't good enough for his traditions, for his life … for _him_. No wonder he had pushed her away for so many years. She should have realized it then. But, no, she had to pursue him, to push for a relationship …

Depression borne of years when her only Christmas present was a reheated dinner or a jar of foundation to cover bruises – either her mother's or her own – settled over her like a blanket. She curled up on her couch and cried out all her anger, all her hurt and all her frustration.

She hated Christmas.

* * *

As soon as the door closed behind Sara, Grissom sank down onto the couch she had so recently vacated. He stared ahead almost blindly, and ran his hand over his face.

"Where did I go wrong?" he muttered.

He mentally retraced his steps, trying to remember something he had done to upset her. He refused to believe that going to Mass had caused her such pain. It just didn't make sense – it wasn't logical.

No, he was sure he had done everything right. She had been having a lovely time … or, at least she had _said_ that she was. What if …?

What if she had said that to make him feel better, when in reality, she hated every minute of it? From the live tree to the cookies, Grissom had given her his best interpretation of Christmas.

He hung his head as he realized the truth: His best wasn't good enough.

His traditions were old and tired, like he was. Sara didn't need someone like him, she needed someone younger and more energetic, someone more in tune to current holiday celebrations.

The fear that he thought he had beaten back so long ago returned in full force. He was too old for her. He wasn't good enough for her. Not good enough at all.

* * *

After her spasm of tears, Sara's depression and self-pity began to fade into guilt. She had behaved horribly, mocking the very traditions Grissom had revered for his entire life. They made him the man he was – the man she had fallen for all those years ago in San Francisco, the man she was learning to love a little bit more every day now in Las Vegas. He had done his best to share that part of his life with her, but had stopped short of forcing her to share his religious background – the one thing that would have made her uncomfortable.

Shame colored her face as she realized how hard he had worked to make the holiday special for her. She had ruined it all with a temper tantrum brought about by things that she thought she had put behind her.

She'd have to apologize. But, first, she'd have to work up the nerve.

* * *

Going to work that night was almost impossible for both of them. Unfortunately, they, Greg and Warrick were all on one case together, which meant that they had to spend a lot of time together.

Just looking at him nearly broke Sara's heart. She had to tell him that she understood, and that she had been wrong. They had to talk.

She waited until they were alone to broach the subject. Warrick had gone to retrieve Trace results from Hodges, promising to let her know as soon as he had them, and Greg had gone to PD for an interrogation. Knowing that Greg would be fine with Brass, Sara went to Grissom's office. She knocked lightly on the open door as she walked in.

"Griss, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, sure," he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

Sara walked all the way in and closed the door, providing them with a measure of privacy. Grissom looked at her as she sat down across from him, his eyes full of questions. Sara took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she said in a rush. "I was horrible to you today. I didn't mean … you're right. I don't think I'm good enough. I'm so damaged, and you're so … You have this wonderful background and this wonderful family and these wonderful traditions, and all I have is a fistful of memories of eating macaroni and cheese on Christmas Eve and praying that we wouldn't have to go to the hospital again. But, you just wanted to celebrate the holiday as you always had … as it was meant to be celebrated. And, I shouldn't have said anything about you going to church. I mean, everyone is entitled to his or her own beliefs, and if you want to believe in God, then that's your right." She sighed. "I'm so sorry. You tried to create new, wonderful memories for me, and I threw them back in your face. I don't know what happened to me. Maybe it was some kind of defense mechanism, or –"

"Sara, stop," Grissom said. "Stop."

Sara stopped babbling and looked at him with wide eyes. He smiled at her.

"I'm over-talking again, aren't I?" she asked quietly.

"A little," he said with a half-smile. "It's okay," he said. He drew his own shaky breath. "When you … said what you said, it really shook me. I don't even want to tell you half the things that I thought after you left. But, Sara, I can tell you that after listening to what you said right now … I'm sorry, too. I should have been more sensitive. I should have realized how difficult it would be for you to celebrate Christmas."

She shook her head. "You're not psychic … well, at least I _think_ you're not. I can't expect you to read my mind. I never told you about what Christmas was always like for me. I wouldn't expect you to just _know_."

Grissom smiled, obviously relieved. "So, we're okay?"

Sara nodded with a bright smile. "We're okay."

He winked at her. "Good. Now, let's get back to work."

* * *

While Sara and Grissom were working out their relationship issues, Greg and Warrick made considerable headway in their case. Their victim was Ahren Green, a motocross racer who had been dating Bianca Desmond, a woman who only told Brass that she was "in fashion." Ahren had been found in Bianca's garage, where he had been working on his bike while Bianca and Chelsea, who had been out with them that night, were sleeping. The girls had discovered his body while searching for him to ask him to join them in a midnight snack.

"Where have you been?" Warrick asked as Sara walked into the A/V room, where he and Greg were discussing the case.

"Around," Sara said evasively. "I thought you were going to page me with the Trace results."

Warrick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, Hodges is taking his sweet time with that one. We've moved on for now."

"To what?"

"I printed the one tool that didn't belong in Ahren's collection, which led us to a utility man – a phone guy. Brass talked to him; he said that he's been missing it for ages. He must have left it there when he was on a service call."

"Sounds a little sketchy," Sara said.

"Yeah, but it sort of makes sense," Warrick said. "We've requested the work order."

"Requested?" Sara grinned, raising her eyebrows.

"With the help of a warrant," Warrick admitted, grinning back.

"Good stuff." Sara turned to Greg. "And, you? What do you have to report?"

Greg cleared his throat. "The blood I found in Bianca's bedroom belongs to Justin Cole."

"Right," Sara said. "The ex-boyfriend. Shot in the leg in her bedroom, right?"

"Exactly. Turns out that he still had the bullet in his leg, so we had it removed for comparison to the bullet that Warrick found in the soda can at the scene."

"Excellent," Sara said sarcastically. "Now we'll know who wanted that can of soda dead."

"Oh, you're a funny one," Greg said, equally sarcastically. "Anyway, Bobby D. ran the two bullets against each other, and found that they're a match."

"So, the soda can bullet and the leg bullet are from the same gun?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Greg confirmed. "Bobby was able to pull more stria off the leg bullet, but still no IBIS hits. So, what about the phone guy? Utility man's always a shade-ball."

"Well, as much as I love your generalizations, actually, this time you're wrong," Hodges said as he and Wendy entered the lab. He handed Warrick a page of test results. "The metallic scrapes on the garage floor were titanium." He glanced up at Greg. "The phone guy's tool was carbon steel."

"Remember we thought they might be dealing meth?" Warrick asked, looking up at Sara.

She nodded.

"Brass went ahead and subpoenaed their phone and bank records. Guess who's paying Bianca's mortgage?"

The others looked at each other blankly.

"A Mr. Harry Desmond," Warrick announced.

"Happy Harry?" Sara asked in surprise. "Gas 'n' Sip Harry Desmond?"

"Who's your daddy?" Wendy said, also shocked.

"No wonder she doesn't work," Greg said. "Harry owns fifty Gas 'n' Sips in Vegas."

Warrick played back a saved phone message Harry had left for Bianca the night of the murder. They listened as he told Bianca that she and Ahren could use the family cabin in Colorado, but that he wanted to talk to her about moving in with him permanently. Warrick then produced a picture of the cabin, which showed that Bianca and Ahren would have been far from roughing it.

"Maybe he was trying to protect the family fortune," Sara suggested, thinking that Harry could not possibly have been happy about the idea of his daughter taking up with a motocross racer.

"Or the family jewels," Wendy said, making a slightly disgusted face.

They all turned to look at her.

"I got the results back from all those sex stains on the sheets," she said, referring to the sheets Sara and Greg had taken from Bianca's bedroom. "Three donors: Ahren, Bianca and Chelsea."

Warrick raised his eyebrows. "Well, I guess they _were_ having a little threesome."

"Yeah, I just _really_ hope he was only doing one woman at a time," Wendy said, shaking her head. She took a deep breath. "Chelsea is Bianca's mother."

Ringing silence followed her words as the others stared at her in shock.

Greg was the one to break the silence. "You have _got_ to be kidding!"

Wendy shook her head. "I can't make this stuff up."

"So, wait," Sara said, shaking her head as she tried to wrap her mind around what was going on, "Ahren was sleeping with both his girlfriend and her _mother_?"

Warrick, Greg and Hodges all shuddered.

"I know we see some messed up relationships in this job, but … _damn_," Warrick said. "This one deserves an award!"

"Not to generalize," Hodges said with a glance toward Greg, "but doesn't Harry seem a little _old_ for Chelsea?"

"Age doesn't always matter," Sara said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her tone.

"That's right," Greg said, glancing at her. "My dad is ten years older than my mom."

"I didn't know that," Sara said, turning to look at him fully.

"Yeah," he said, giving her a smile. "Interesting, huh?"

"What's interesting?" Grissom asked as he walked into the lab.

"Oh, man, Griss, you are not going to believe this one," Warrick said with a grin. He glanced at the others. "Can I tell him?"

"By all means," Wendy said, still with the slightly nauseous expression on her face. "I think breaking that news once was more than enough for me."

Warrick grinned at Grissom. "So, remember our theory about the threesome?"

"Yes."

"Well, according to Wendy, we were right. Ahren, Bianca and Chelsea all contributed to the sex stains Sara and Greg found on the sheets."

"And, this is supposed to be unbelievable?" Grissom asked. "We've seen stranger."

"Wait for it," Greg laughed.

Grissom frowned slightly at Greg, then turned back to Warrick, waiting for an explanation.

"According to their DNA, Chelsea is Bianca's mother."

Grissom's eyebrows shot up. "Well, that _is_ different." He paused and frowned. "And, just a bit disturbing."

"Just a bit?" Sara asked incredulously.

"To be fair, we don't know for sure that they were all in bed together at the same time," Grissom said.

"Still, it's creepy," Greg said. "I don't care how hot my girlfriend's mother is, I would never sleep with her."

"Greg!" Sara exclaimed. "You have a girlfriend? You didn't tell me!"

"Um, I was speaking hypothetically," Greg said, turning slightly pink. "Thanks, Sara, for pointing that out."

"Oh," Sara said, her face falling. "Sorry, Greggo."

"Yeah, yeah."

"So, does anyone know anything about the father in this case?" Grissom asked. "I'm pretty sure _that_ man would have quite a bit of motive for killing Ahren."

"Happy Harry Desmond?" Warrick asked. "I think he'd probably hire it out."

"Harry Desmond?" Grissom repeated. "He's Bianca's father?"

"That he is," Warrick nodded.

"Well, you _are_ full of interesting information tonight," Grissom said. "I'll call Brass and have him brought in."

* * *

"Hey," Brass said, walking into Grissom's office. "Do you have a minute?"

"Sure," Grissom said, putting his paperwork aside. "What's up?"

"I just talked to Harry Desmond."

"Ah," Grissom said, smiling slightly. "How is the proud papa?"

Brass chuckled. "Shocked to learn that his wife was cheating on him."

"Aren't they always?"

"Yeah, well …" Brass cleared his throat. "He said that she didn't have a good reason to marry him at the time – said she was half his age and considerably prettier than he was. So, in order to keep her as his wife, he gave her a long leash."

"He gave her a long leash?" Grissom repeated. "What's that supposed to mean? It almost sounds like he _wanted_ her to cheat."

Brass shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever it takes to make the marriage work, right? Anyway, we're bringing in his gun collection."

"Good. I'll have the guys process them." Grissom paused. "What do you think, Jim? Do you like him for this?"

"I don't know," Brass said. "Not really. He said, probably rightly so, that if he killed Ahren, he'd just have Bianca hanging off another idiot's arm tomorrow. No, he seems like he knows that it wouldn't do him any good where his daughter is concerned."

"And, where his wife is concerned?"

"That might be the one thing that could have pushed him to do it," Brass conceded. "But, I'm not entirely convinced that he knew about her affair before I told him."

Grissom nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

"Anytime."

Brass left the office, and Grissom exhaled. He scrubbed his hands over his face, and then rested his chin on his fingertips.

For the second time in as many days, he found himself thinking of the age difference between him and Sara. While he was not twice her age, he certainly was older than she was – just as Harry was older than Chelsea.

Chelsea was reliving her party days with her daughter. They went shopping and clubbing together, which met with Harry's approval. However, Chelsea wasn't happy stopping there; she continued on with her second "childhood" and competed with her daughter for men.

Chelsea wanted more than the life that Harry was able to give her, and she went the extra mile to get it.

Who was to say that, someday, Sara wouldn't do the same?

Not that Grissom thought that she would turn into a party girl, or that she would start cheating on him with considerably younger men. Rather, he was concerned that she would discover that the life that he could give her would not be what she wanted or needed at all – and, that there would be someone younger – someone more her age – who would be more than willing to provide it.

He dropped his head into his hands. What was he doing, holding her back like this? It wasn't fair to her.

But, despite what she might want or need, he wasn't sure that he was ready to let her go.

* * *

Sara dropped by Grissom's house after work. He was pleased to see her, and welcomed her with a kiss, but something seemed off about him. As they sat together on the couch, watching tv, Sara glanced at him. He was wearing his "pensive and worried" face. She nudged him with her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Hm?"

"You look upset about something." Her face fell. "Are you still mad about the religion thing? Because, I meant what I said – everyone is entitled to his or her own beliefs, and –"

"No, it's not that," Grissom interrupted.

"Well, will you tell me what it is?"

He was silent for a moment, trying to decide if he should tell her or not. "I'm just worried about … our ages."

Sara sighed. "Neither of us is under eighteen, which makes our relationship perfectly legal."

"Yes, but when I turned eighteen, you weren't even in kindergarten."

"I thought I had made it abundantly clear that it doesn't matter to me that you're a little older than I am."

"I know. You have."

She frowned. "Does that mean that it matters to you that I'm a little younger than you are? Because, I can promise you one thing – even if I try, I'll never be able to close the age gap between us."

"No, it … well … not exactly."

"What are you saying, Gil?" she asked, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice.

"I'm saying that I'm afraid we'll end up like Harry and Chelsea." The words came out in a rush, not at all how he had intended to say them. He looked like he wanted to take them back, but, it was too late. The damage had been done.

Sara's eyes opened wide, and a pink tinge began to spread across her cheeks. When she could speak again, fire snapped in her eyes. "Well, why don't you just knock me up, then? We'll have to wait about twenty years, but, then we can see if I'll try to sleep with our daughter's boyfriends."

"Sara, I'm sorry. That came out wrong."

"Yeah," she said, standing up. "I'm sure it did. But, just try to find a way to make it sound _right_."

"Wait – Sara – Where are you going?"

"Home," she said, almost stumbling across the room. "I'm not sure I want to be here right now."

"Don't do that. Don't leave."

"Grissom, you just accused me of being the type of woman who would cheat on her husband with her daughter's boyfriends. If you honestly think that I would do that, you don't know me at all."

Her words touched a nerve. Grissom stood up and stared straight into her eyes, barely concealing the anger in his. "If you think that I would think that about you, _you_ don't know _me_ at all."

"What exactly am I supposed to think, Grissom? You just put me on the same level with Chelsea … whatever the hell her last name is!"

"No, I did not. You weren't listening."

"Oh, I was listening. I heard you loud and clear when you said we were going to end up like them."

"Yes, Sara. Like _them_. Not like _her_."

Sara nearly screamed in frustration. "Eeergh! Always the semantics with you!"

"Yes, well, word choice is important. I didn't mean that you'd end up cheating on me with … well, anyone. What I _meant_ was that I'm afraid I'll hold you back from something that you want to do or to experience. I'm afraid that we'll hit the point when I'm just this old man who's dragging you down."

Sara stared at him. "You can't possibly mean that."

"Can't I? I think about it, Sara. It worries me."

"So, you think that _that's_ the type of woman I am, then? The type who would just get bored with one toy because she found a newer, shinier one?"

"Again, you're not listening –"

"You know what?" Sara interrupted. "I can't take this. I just … I can't do this right now."

"So, that's it. You're leaving."

She gave him an appraising look. "I don't see you giving me much of a reason to stay."

With that verbal bitch-slap, Sara left Grissom standing alone in his living room.

* * *

They had their work, which turned out to be a blessing. It was the only time they saw each other, or talked to each other. Sara found herself spending more time working with Warrick and Greg on their case, just so that she could avoid Grissom. Judging by how little she saw him, she had a feeling that he was avoiding her, too.

After working countless hours, Sara thought that she might actually have something important on the case. A perusal of Bianca's phone records had given Sara a map of her social life, which provided a bit of insight into her world. She posted pictures of the three main men in her life: Ahren, Justin and Tom, the phone guy, along with highlighted copies of her phone records. When she had everything ready, she called Warrick and, somewhat reluctantly, Grissom to the layout room so she could show them her findings.

She explained to Warrick and Grissom that Tom had compromised the date on the work order he had provided. He had actually been at Bianca's house to install a DSL line ten months earlier than he wanted them to believe.

"Why would the guy lie?" Warrick asked.

"It appears that he was a lot more to her than just the phone guy," Sara said. "Our bachelorette was a very busy girl." She turned to her carefully posted records. "Phone calls from Bianca to Tom are in yellow, from Bianca to Justin are in blue, and from Bianca to Ahren are in pink. There was always overlap."

She took them through the records, showing that Bianca always went back to Tom. In fact, she always went back to Tom just before her other relationships violently ended.

"Every time this chick calls Tom, somebody gets shot," Warrick said.

"It's like thermite," Grissom said.

"Thermite?" Sara repeated with a slight frown.

"When you combine two seemingly harmless elements, aluminum and rust, press them together, add heat, it creates an explosion so hot it'll burn through steel. Powerful, but uncontrollable, it burns and burns until it burns itself out, finally consuming both elements."

Sara, who had felt her irritation growing through Grissom's speech, finally had her own, internal explosion. "I guess some people just shouldn't be together."

Grissom's eyes, which had drifted away from her as he spoke, swung back to her face.

"Well, Bianca and Tom shouldn't have been together," Warrick said. "Though, if the guy has been killing off her other boyfriends, I'm not sure I'd call him 'harmless.'"

"He didn't kill Justin," Sara said, grateful that Warrick was there to provide the distraction they needed.

"I still don't think that a man who was shot in the leg would call the shooter harmless."

"I think we need to talk to Tom," Grissom said.

"I'll call Brass," Sara said.

She hurried from the room, thinking that if she spent any more time with Grissom, she'd be liable to truly let loose on him – something that she had promised herself she'd not do at work. They had to keep their private life out of the lab, or their relationship would never work.

Not that it was working so well anyway…

Thermite, indeed. As if mentioning _that_ had been a mistake.

Before she had time to consider going back into the layout room to unleash her anger, she pulled out her phone to call Brass. She hoped he'd let her ride along to find Tom. Burying herself in her work seemed like the best way to handle this situation.

She certainly wasn't ready to even consider resolving it.


	48. New Memories

A/N: You have no idea how close this chapter came to being posted late! However, a sudden burst of inspiration had me working furiously. And, so, here we have a very punctual update. I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 613, "Kiss Kiss, Bye Bye."

* * *

_New Memories_

"He's an awful person."

"Yes, Sara," Mary said wearily. "We hate Grissom right now."

"You're not being very supportive," Sara said, her voice taking on a slightly whiny tone.

"Yeah, well, I've sort of been hearing the same story for the past three days," Mary said. "Grissom thinks that he's holding you back because he's too old for you."

"Which is utterly ridiculous!"

"It doesn't make him an awful person," Mary said. "And, last time I checked, despite the fact that you inexplicably have yet to tell him, you love him."

Sara sighed. "Yes," she whispered.

"Which means, you're going to eventually forgive him for this," Mary continued. "You just need to get over what he said."

"I'm sort of having a hard time with that right now," Sara said. "God, Mar, you have no idea. The woman he compared me to is such a skank. She truly _is_ an awful person."

Mary sighed. "Did you solve the case?"

"What? Yeah. Greg was right. It was the phone guy. He was working with Chelsea to protect Bianca from all the terrible men in her life."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Apparently, Ahren was good enough for Chelsea, but not for Bianca."

Mary laughed. "Well, we all want better for our children than for ourselves."

"Are you saying Josie deserves someone better than her daddy?" Sara teased.

"Oh, leave my baby out of this," Mary said.

"Hey, you brought her up … sort of."

"Will you let me prove a point here?"

"Please."

"So, the case is over. Are you going to carry it around forever so that you can stay mad at Grissom?"

"I don't know, Mary. I don't understand why he keeps thinking that he's not good enough for me."

"He's new to this relationship thing," Mary explained. "You know that he hasn't had a long-term relationship is ages. He's probably lost all his boyfriend self-esteem. You have to build it back up again."

"I'm trying. I just don't get it. Why is he so upset about this age thing?" Sara asked. "He has to know that I don't have a problem with him being older. If he had worked on me forever to get this relationship going, it would be one thing, but I practically threw myself at him!"

Mary laughed. "Well, subtlety has never been your strong point."

"Should I be insulted by that remark?"

"Hard to get upset over the truth, isn't it?"

"Now you're just being mean."

"No, I'm doing the same thing I've been doing all along. I'm trying to make you see reason."

Sara sighed. "I guess I have to talk to him about it, huh?"

"If you want to fix it, yeah." Mary paused. "Actually, even if you want it to end like this, you sort of have to talk to him, too. You need to tell him that."

"No, I don't want it to end," Sara said. "I do want to fix it. I just … I have to make him understand that our age difference doesn't bother me."

"Right."

"Well, that and that he has to learn to tell me things in a better way."

"Yeah, be careful how you phrase that one," Mary said. "Don't sound too bossy."

"Because you're giving me such a good example of that right now?" Sara laughed. A beep sounded in her ear. "Hang on, Mar. I've got another call."

"All right."

Sara pressed her Talk button to switch lines. "Sara Sidle."

"Hey, Sara, it's Catherine. Grissom just called and said he needs us at Lois O'Neill's house. We've got a dead waiter at a huge birthday bash."

"Hey, I'll go for a little Vegas royalty," Sara said, trying to conceal the fact that her heart sank at the news that Grissom had told Catherine to call her rather than calling himself.

"Good. I'll see you there?"

"I'm on my way."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye." Sara switched lines again. "Hey, Mary, I've got to go to work."

"Grissom called you in?"

"No," she sighed. "Catherine did. Griss told her to call me."

"He told her to call you?"

"Yeah," Sara sighed. "I don't know. I'll call you when I have a chance."

"Okay," Mary said. "I'll talk to you later, then."

"Yeah."

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Fix this. Soon."

"I will," Sara said. "I'll call you later, Mary."

"Bye, sweetie."

"Bye."

Sara snapped her phone closed and sighed yet again. Mary was right. She did need to fix this.

But, first, she needed to solve a crime.

* * *

When Sara arrived at the scene, Grissom and Nick were interviewing the hundreds of guests who had been attending Lois O'Neill's birthday party. Sara instinctively started toward Grissom, ready to interrupt his interview to ask for her assignment, when Catherine appeared next to her.

"Hi," she said. "Come on; we're going upstairs."

"Upstairs?"

"A waiter was found dead in Lois O'Neill's bedroom during the party," Catherine explained, leading her toward the stairs. "Ms. O'Neill was found hiding from the shooter. Greg and Brass are interviewing her now. Grissom and Nick have the party guests. You and I are going to take the bedroom."

"Excellent," Sara said, tightening her grip on her kit. "I'll take the body."

Catherine smiled. "How did I know you'd say that?"

Sara shrugged. "What can I say? I'm predictable."

After David and Sara processed the body, Sara joined Catherine on her search of the bedroom. Catherine, with something of a wistful smile, pointed out a picture of her mother with Lois O'Neill when the two had been showgirls together.

"I'll bet your mom had some amazing stories," Sara said.

"Yeah," Catherine acknowledged. "It's strange, really. When you grow up hearing about your mother and her time with Lois O'Neill, Tony Constantine and Sam Braun, among others, the whole idea of 'Vegas royalty' loses something." She shrugged. "It's like the mystique is gone."

"Hey, guys, check this out!" Greg practically bounded across the room toward them, grinning from ear to ear. "Lois O'Neill gave me an autographed copy of her book!"

"And, for some, it never dies," Sara said.

Catherine laughed. "Okay, you guys keep going in here. I'm going to check out the escape route potential of that doorway."

"Want to process in here?" Sara asked Greg as Catherine walked away. "I'll go over the area where the body was found."

"Sure," Greg agreed, already opening the book.

"Um, Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"Put the book down while you're processing."

Greg grinned. "What, you think Grissom would have a problem with me reading on the job?"

"Oh, no," Sara said sarcastically. "I think he'd love to know that you're reading Lois O'Neill's tell-all book instead of looking for evidence in a _homicide investigation_."

"Point taken," Greg agreed.

Sara grinned at him. "Call me if you need me."

"Likewise."

It was Sara who called Greg to assist her when she found a bullet hole in the carpeting near where the waiter had died. To her chagrin, Greg's nose was buried in his new book as he joined her.

"Wow!" he said as he walked into the room. "You know, Lois had her first sexual experience on her ninth grade class trip to the state capitol … with the governor."

Figuring that it would be best to ignore his lack of attention to their crime scene – she could only repeat the same instructions so many times in one day – Sara immediately began discussing the job.

"I found the bullet hole," she said from her position practically laying on the blood-stained carpet. "Could you bring the sawzall?"

"Well, you know, this place is a piece of Las Vegas history," Greg said, putting the book down. "You don't just want to go chopping it up."

"It's a crime scene, and there's evidence under the floor," Sara said.

"Yeah, but we don't know where it is," Greg conceded. "So, I thought we'd let hawk-eye do a little exploration for us." He pulled the instrument out of its case, and offered it to Sara.

"Sure," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "I wouldn't want to damage priceless, forty-year-old carpeting."

"No," Greg agreed.

Sara looked up at him and shook her head. "Greg, seriously."

"Seriously, what?" he asked innocently.

Sara sighed. "Oh, just give that to me."

"Hey, I'm just trying to work the scene while causing as little damage as possible," Greg said. "Lois lives here, you know."

"Right," Sara said. "As opposed to all the other houses that have become crime scenes – no one lives in those."

"You know, your sarcasm is a bit much today."

"As is your lack of attention to the job."

Greg stopped in the process of setting up the computer and looked at her. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he said. "You're just … a little short. And, I mean, I know you're one sarcastic lady, but still …"

"I'm fine, Greg."

"No, you're not," he insisted. He looked at her closely. "Did you and Grissom get into a fight?"

Sara bit her lip. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

"Sara …"

"Okay, look, we did get into a fight. I'm getting over it, but I need to talk to him so that we can work everything out, and I haven't had a chance to do that yet. So, excuse me if I'm a little tense."

"Want me to beat him up for you?"

Sara smiled. "No. But, thank you for the offer."

"Anytime."

Still smiling, Sara shook her head and threaded the camera through the bullet hole in the floor. "Let's do this."

* * *

Sara and Greg's search of the floor led them to a veritable fortune: They found approximate one million dollars stashed under the carpeting that Greg was so keen to leave intact. They pulled all the money out and looked at one another in shock.

"Well," Sara said, clearing her throat. "I guess we'd better get this back to the lab."

"Yeah," Greg agreed. "Good plan." He paused. "Are you driving?"

Sara smiled. "Okay … but, just so you know, I can't drive with lights on in the car."

"Damn it."

She laughed. "I'm kidding, Greg. Read all the way back if you'd like."

Once they got back to the lab, Greg volunteered to supervise the counting and cataloguing of the money, allowing Sara to go home instead of staying for a second shift on what should have been her night off. She smiled her thanks, and made her way out the door.

She may have left the lab, but she had no intention of going home.

* * *

Booming barks answered her knock on Grissom's front door. She smiled as the door opened and Hank bounded out.

"Hey, sweetie," she said, patting the dog's head.

Hank licked at her hands, then obeyed Grissom's command to go back inside. Grissom, for his part, stared at Sara.

"Hey," he said almost cautiously.

"Hi," she said. "Can I come in?"

He nodded and stepped back, allowing her to enter.

Sara walked inside, then turned to watch as he closed the door. "Gil … I'm sorry."

Grissom turned to look at her with wide eyes. "What?"

"I'm sorry that I blew up at you," she said. "You're entitled to your feelings, and I should have let you voice them."

Grissom exhaled. "Sara … I'm sorry, too. I never should have said what I did. I … I don't think you're like Chelsea. I certainly don't think that you'd sleep with your daughter's boyfriends and then arrange to have them killed."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sara couldn't help but giggle. "Well, _that's_ a relief."

Grissom smiled. "Come here."

Sara willingly stepped into his open arms and let him hold her tightly. "You do understand why I was upset, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "I really messed up what I was trying to say. The more I thought about it, the more insulting it seemed to me."

"Yeah, but, Gil, that's only part of it."

Grissom pulled back enough to look into her eyes. "What's the other part?"

"I hate to hear you talk about how much older you are than me."

He frowned. "Sweetheart, I _am_ older than you. As you said, we can't change that."

"I know that. But, it doesn't have to be a problem for us."

Grissom released her from his embrace and took her hand, pulling her to the couch. "Sara …"

She looked at him expectantly.

"I know what you've said, but, it's just …" He held her hand tightly, running his fingers over the back of it. "Look, Sara, I just don't want to hold you back from something you want to do."

"What exactly is it you think I want to do?"

He shrugged. "I know you've got your career, and that's great. We both know I've been married to mine since I started working. But, what if, in a few years, you suddenly realize that you want kids? A house in the suburbs? A white picket fence?" His face twisted. "To be honest, I'm not sure I'd be able to give you all of that. And, Sara, what I want more than anything is for you to be happy. If I can't make you happy, then maybe it's time we rethought …"

Sara silenced him with a hand over his mouth. "Gil. Stop."

His wide eyes urged her to continue.

She sighed. "I can't predict the future. I can't promise you that I won't wake up tomorrow with a strong desire to have ten kids and a house on the beach in Florida. But, I can promise you that I don't just leap from one dream to another. I'm not the kind of girl who's going to suddenly decide that it's time to move on to the next man because this one isn't giving her what she wants." She smiled. "I worked too hard for too long to win you over. I'm not going to give up on you now – not without some serious consideration of what I'd stand to lose for a potentially small gain."

"Sara …"

"And," she continued as if he had never spoken, "Gil, you need to know that you make me happy. So, so incredibly happy."

Grissom smiled then. "You make me happy, too."

"Good." She leaned forward and kissed him. "Now, are we good?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm sorry for doubting you."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry for giving you reason to doubt me."

"You didn't," he assured her. "I gave myself reason enough without your help."

Sara smiled. "So, this fight is over?"

"Most definitely."

"Good," she said, kissing him again. "Because, I, for one, am ready for the make up sex."

Laughing, Grissom pulled her into another kiss. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck, and Sara moaned.

"Bedroom?" she asked.

Grissom shook his head. "No."

"Griss …"

"We're going to do this right here." He stopped kissing her and slid off the couch, pulling her to the floor with him.

"On the floor?"

He nodded and looked up at the glittering Christmas tree. "In front of the tree."

Sara looked up at it, noticing for the first time that its lights were on, casting twinkling reflections in Grissom's eyes.

Grissom kissed her, then pulled back to look into her eyes. "I think that it's time you had some new Christmas memories," he explained. "Some _happy_ Christmas memories."

In that moment, she wanted so much to tell him that she loved him, but something made her hold back. Struggling against sudden, unexpected tears, Sara kissed Grissom again. Her actions would have to say what her words could not.

Grissom smiled against her lips. "You like my idea?"

"Yes," she moaned, laying back and pulling him down on top of her. "Let's make it a reality."

Chuckling, Grissom attacked her neck with his lips again.

It was certainly a merry Christmas.

* * *

Sara awoke the next "morning" to the feel of Grissom's kisses on her cheek. She smiled as she rolled over to face him.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," he replied. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in days."

"Me, too." He leaned in to kiss her again, but stopped. His head bobbed back up to look at her, the expression in his eyes somewhere between horrified and sheepish.

"What?" Sara asked, instantly on alert. "What's wrong?"

"Um … I'm glad it's winter?"

Sara frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Beard burn," he almost whispered.

Sara reached up to touch her neck, wincing slightly. "Oh, well."

"You took that well."

"Like you said, it's winter," she said, rolling out of his bed. "I have plenty of scarves I can wear."

"Good."

She leaned down to kiss him. "Aside from that … I sort of like having a tangible reminder of what we do when we're not at work."

Grissom grinned and kissed her again.

* * *

They had stalled on the case.

With no new evidence to process, Sara, Greg and Warrick had lunch together, going over all that they already knew. Aside from Greg's use of sixties era, Vegas mobster vocabulary, Sara was convinced that nothing new was coming to light. She was, however, more than a little amused by Greg's newly acquired phrases.

Sara finally made the suggestion that revived them all: That they consider that Lois O'Neill herself could have been the shooter, rather than believe her story that the waiter had taken a bullet meant for her.

"Well, I don't see homicide anywhere on her schedule," Greg commented.

Sara laughed, but wasn't quite ready to give up on her theory. They needed to test Lois's clothes for blood and GSR.

"You and Catherine can take clothing collection," Warrick said.

Sara rolled her eyes. "We're women, so we're better equipped to handle clothes?"

"Pretty much," Warrick said with a grin.

"Do you tell your wife that?"

"Hey, now, leave my wife out of this."

Sara laughed and stood up. "Fine, you sexist pig. I'll go find Catherine, and we'll be the ones to break this case wide open."

Warrick laughed as Sara left the break room. "That girl kills me."

"That girl left without …" Greg didn't bother to finish his statement, but walked out after her. "Hey, Sara!"

Sara turned and waited for him to catch up. "Wanna come along and do some women's work?"

"No, I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay."

He lowered his voice. "Did you and Griss make up?"

Sara nodded, a pink blush spreading across her face. "How did you know?"

"You're laughing today," Greg replied. "You seem happier."

Sara smiled. "I am. I'll see you later, Greggo."

"And, there's the scarf," he yelled after her as she walked down the hall.

Sara stopped dead in her tracks and turned to look at him.

Greg grinned. "Some things aren't just for fashion."

Making a sound of disgust, Sara went to find Catherine, adjusting her scarf as she walked.

* * *

Catherine was thrilled with Lois's extensive, highly organized closet. While Sara looked up her clothes on the computer designed for that purpose, Catherine sought out the hanger as directed. They weren't exactly surprised when the clothes she had worn for the party were missing.

"It's possible she sent them to the cleaners to get rid of blood and GSR," Catherine said. "We can get a warrant."

"Well …" Sara said, going back to the computer, "she wouldn't have sent her jewelry to the cleaners." She clicked through until she found Lois's ring's home. "Got it. Drawer nineteen."

Catherine crossed to the massive jewelry box and opened drawer nineteen. "Oh," she said, picking up the ring. "How apropos that she's named names. The canary diamond."

"Wanna bet that the birdie sings in the key of GSR?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Don't start that."

"Don't start what?"

"The puns. That's Grissom's game, not yours."

Sara laughed to cover her sudden nerves. "I guess I've been working with him for too long."

"You have to make a conscious effort to avoid it," Catherine agreed, bagging the ring. "Okay. Shall we take this back to the lab?"

"Certainly."

She glanced around. "I think we can release the scene, too. There's nothing more for us here."

"Lois will be glad to get home again," Sara said. "Griss said that she was complaining about it."

"They all do," Catherine agreed. "Okay. Let's get going."

* * *

"I think Greg's getting a little too into this case," Sara said, walking into Grissom's office. "I just saw him in the hall; he called me a dame."

Grissom smiled. "I've never thought of him as a history buff."

"Maybe we just needed to find a period in history that would interest him."

Sara's phone vibrated; she picked it up to read a text message from Hodges.

"Important news?" Grissom asked.

"Maybe," Sara conceded. "Hodges has the results on Lois O'Neill's ring. Want to go with me to get them?"

"Sure."

They walked into the Trace Lab to find Hodges staring at himself in a mirror as he painstakingly colored his hair with a permanent marker. Sara bit her lips to keep from giggling. Afraid to look at her for fear that the eye contact would have both of them laughing, Grissom grinned.

"Vanity, thy name is Hodges."

Hodges jumped, quickly stowing the mirror and marker out of sight. "This isn't what it looks like."

Grissom wanted to roll his eyes. _If I had a nickel for every time I heard that …_

"I actually like my gray hair," Hodges said. "The few that I have."

Sara smiled. "Hodges, don't you know that gray hair can be very attractive?"

It was Grissom's turn to jump, his eyes widening and a smile tugging at his lips. He glanced at her even as she glanced at him. Hodges, too, startled and smiled at Sara.

"The ring?" she asked, her smile widening as she realized how dazzled he was by her comment.

"The ring?" Hodges seemed to give himself a mental shake. "The ring! The ring tested positive for GSR."

"That means Lois could be the shooter," Sara said, taking the results from Hodges.

"I guess we'll have to bring her in," Grissom said. "I'll call Brass."

Sara nodded. "I'll break the news to Greg. I think he'll need to hear it from a friend."

Grissom laughed as they turned to leave the lab.

"Sara!"

Sara turned to see Hodges standing in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Did you mean that?"

Sara smiled. "Different things attract different people, Hodges. But … yeah. I think that lots of women find gray hair attractive."

He smiled again, and ducked back into his lab.

"Why are you feeding his ego?" Grissom sighed.

"I wasn't," Sara said. "I was telling him the truth. I, for one, find gray hair to be very attractive."

Grissom smiled, blushing slightly. "I have to call Brass."

"I'm going to find Greg."

* * *

Sara and Greg were sitting in the break room together when Grissom called. He and Brass had gone to Lois's house only to find her in bed, shot once to the chest. Greg's face fell.

"I can't believe she's gone."

"Oh, Greg," Sara sighed. "She's not _really_ gone."

Greg frowned.

"She wrote that book," Sara said. "Her entire life story, along with the story of old Vegas, is right there for anyone to read."

"Yeah," Greg said. "But, this is only a small part of old Vegas."

Sara frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's so much more to be told … to be uncovered …"

"Sara, Greg, we need you."

Their conversation ended as they answered Catherine's call to go back to work.

* * *

Lois, Doc Robbins discovered, had been dying of advanced cancer. Her murder had been orchestrated so that she could avoid a slow, painful death.

The waiter, the man she had initially hired to kill her, had been collateral damage. She had caught him stealing her jewelry and had killed him. Her own death botched, she did her best to make his look like a mob hit.

Her death was reworked, this time executed by an old, trusted friend.

Their case closed, Grissom took Sara back to his house. They picked up Hank, and took him to the park. Sara, thrilled to have a dog to play with for the first time since childhood, grabbed his ball and immediately engaged him in a game of fetch.

"Do you think of me as ancient?"

Grissom's question caught Sara off-guard. She looked up from watching Hank chase the ball she had just tossed for him. "Only when I consider your age in dog years."

Grissom smiled. "I'm being serious."

Sara sighed. "Of course not. Haven't we established that?"

"I know, it's just …"

"Just what?"

"Just a conversation I had with Greg about some 'ancient' money."

"Ancient money?"

"The money you two found in Lois O'Neill's floor. He was appalled by the fact that it was printed in 1965. Said that it was ancient."

Sara smiled. "You're listening to Greg now?"

"I always listen to Greg. I listen to everyone."

Sara's smile widened, and she leaned back against him. "Good. Then you listen to me. And, I know you were listening when I said that gray hair is attractive." She reached up to run her fingers through his hair. "Especially on you. In fact, on _you_, I'd have to call it sexy."

Grissom smiled and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss into her temple.

"You're not ancient, Gil," Sara said quietly. "Not by a long shot."


	49. Jane Doe

A/N: So, I feel the need to warn you about this chapter – it most definitely ends in a cliffhanger. Sorry about that. But, it was either end it here and leave you hanging, or wait until next week (at best) to post an uber-long chapter. I decided to split it so I could post now, when I'm only a day late. I hope you agree with my decision, and that you like this chapter.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Oh, and since they're fighting for their Stanley Cup lives tonight, GO PENS!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 615, "Pirates of the Third Reich."

* * *

_Jane Doe_

"Okay, you know what? You've got to learn to control that thing."

"What in the world are you talking about?"

Sara walked from Grissom's bathroom to his bedroom, frowning as she gestured toward her red, inflamed neck. "Just once, we need to make out without hurting me."

Grissom smiled slightly. "I'm sorry, honey. I told you that I'd shave the beard if you wanted it gone."

Sara sighed and crossed to put her arms around his neck. "And, I told you that it's your face, not mine. If you like the beard, keep it. I think you're sexy either way."

He shook his head. "So, why exactly are you upset?"

"Because I have to wear a scarf to work again," she said, pulling away from him. "Greg figured out why I wear them, you know."

"I thought you were just considered to be very fashion-conscious."

"By Catherine and Sofia, yes. By Greg, no. He can see straight through me."

Grissom laughed. "Oh, well. At least he knows that you have a healthy sex life."

Sara's mouth dropped open as her cheeks flushed pink. "I cannot believe you just said that."

"Why not?" Grissom asked, grabbing her and pulling her close again. "It's true."

Sara struggled to free herself from his arms. "Let go of me, you sex fiend!"

Grissom laughed and kissed her. "I've never heard you complain before now."

Sara scrunched up her face at him. "Whatever. We're going to be late for work."

Laughing again, Grissom released her. "I can't imagine what everyone would say if I walked in late."

"I'm sure it wouldn't be pretty," Sara said, winding a scarf around her neck. She giggled. "Do you think anyone would accuse you of having a girlfriend?"

"Catherine would. Do you think she'd buy the old 'I was feeding my cockroaches' excuse?"

"She might … but, only because it's _you_," Sara replied. "How's your Jane Doe going?"

"Still a Jane Doe," Grissom replied, following the abrupt subject change rather smoothly. "Nick's working on identifying her. Would you like to give him a hand tonight?"

"Sure," Sara agreed.

"Good. I think we could use your help." Grissom leaned closer to kiss her cheek. "I'll see you there?"

"See you there."

With one last smile, Grissom left the bedroom and the townhouse. Sara waited the usual fifteen minutes, then trailed behind him to the lab.

* * *

"Hey, Nicky," Sara said, walking into the layout room. "How's it going?"

"Slowly," Nick replied, barely glancing up from the photos he was studying.

"Well, I'm going to try to help speed it up," she said. "Grissom told me to join you on your case."

"Great!" Nick said, his eyes lighting up. "You'll definitely –" He was cut off by the beeping of his phone. He picked it up to read the new text message. "Wendy has the results from the victim's eyes," he said. "Do you want to get them for me?"

"Sure," Sara replied. "Catch me up first?"

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "Our Jane Doe was found in the desert, off highway 55 a few miles outside of Sparks. At this point, our best guess is that it was a body dump. She looks like a concentration camp victim – emaciated, shaved head, branded. She's also missing her right hand. We're not sure what happened there."

Sara shivered. "Yikes."

"Yeah, it's not pretty." Nick cleared his throat. "When Doc Robbins and David were doing the autopsy, they discovered that the optic nerve had been severed in one of her eyes. That eye was far more decimated than the other, so we think that it might have been infected. I sent both to Wendy to see what she could tell us about them."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Not yet. We're still waiting for an ID. If we don't get any DNA hits, I'm going to print her and try to ID her that way. Grissom's in autopsy now, getting Doc Robbins's report and an official cause of death."

"Okay," Sara said. "I'll go talk to Wendy, and I'll get back to you."

"Thanks, Sar," Nick said. He smiled. "I'm glad to have your help."

"I'm glad to give it."

* * *

By the time Sara had finished talking to Wendy, Nick was with Grissom, who was sharing the autopsy results with him. They both looked up as she walked into the layout room.

"Hey, Sara," Nick said. "Was Wendy able to ID our girl through DNA?"

"Not our _girl_, no."

Nick gave her an odd look. "Well, what _did_ Wendy have for us?"

"You're not going to believe this," Sara said flatly. "That eye with the severed optic nerve doesn't belong to our Jane Doe."

Nick and Grissom both looked at her in shock.

"I thought that Doc Robbins said an eye transplant is really only a cornea transplant," Nick said.

"It is," Sara agreed. "But, this time, they went for the whole eye."

"Well, does this transplanted eye have an owner?" Grissom asked.

"Yes," Sara said. "Wendy got a CODIS hit on it. DNA matches Jack Landers, a convicted sex offender. Apparently, it's his."

"So, Jack Landers killed our Jane Doe, cut out his own eye and stuck it in her eye socket?" Nick asked.

"Not necessarily in that order," Sara said. "Jack's eye has been dead longer than Jane's."

Nick shook his head. "Okay, so, he cut out his own eye, let it sit for awhile, then killed Jane, removed her eye, and put his in its place? That doesn't make any sense at all."

"Don't worry about making sense of it yet," Grissom said. "We don't have enough to go on."

"We definitely need more," Nick agreed.

"Call Brass," Grissom said. "If this guy has a parole officer, he'll be easy enough to find. Track him down and bring him in. We'll see what's going on here."

"I'm on it," Sara said. She gave the file with Wendy's results to Grissom. "Oh, and, for what it's worth, both eyes were drugged – pain killers and panic suppressers."

"Right," Grissom said, flipping through the results. "One thing at a time. See what Mr. Landers has to say."

* * *

Unfortunately, Mr. Landers did not have much to say – or, at the very least, not much that was helpful. When his parole officer took Sara and Brass to him, Jack appeared to be a homeless man who was on drugs. The parole officer informed them that he had been tested, and was clean.

Convinced that he was mentally unstable, Sara and Brass took their suspect to the hospital. Brass stayed long enough to help Sara check the man in, then took off. Left alone in the waiting area, Sara called Nick. His voicemail picked up; Sara assumed he was running Jane Doe's prints.

"Hey, Nick, it's Sara. Brass and I tracked down Jack Landers, but we're not getting much sense of out him. I can tell you that he's wearing a patch over one eye," Sara said. "We've got him at Desert Palm right now. Hopefully, the doctors will be able to tell us more than he can. I'll be here till they're done, so, if you want to join me, come on over."

Sara had been waiting for nearly half an hour before the doctor was ready to see Mr. Landers. Just as she was about to go into the exam room, Sara noticed Nick coming down the hall. She paused to wait for him, noting that he looked concerned.

"Hey, Sara, got your message. No AIFS hits on my Jane Doe. So, I put a bulletin out to surrounding agencies and the media. Maybe someone will recognize the photo. Where are you?"

"On the train to Crazyville," Sara replied. She began to walk toward the exam room; Nick followed her.

"Did you get a peek under the patch?"

"No," Sara said firmly, "no, no. I left that for the doctor."

The doctor in question was currently attempting to look into Jack's eyes. He had taken away his patch, which had upset Jack. After looking into the empty socket where the eye should have been, the doctor looked at Nick and Sara.

"Did he have an ocular tumor, or recent surgery?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Sara said. "He's a suspect in a murder investigation. Do you think he's crazy, or …?"

"I think he's been lobotomized," Dr. Mulligan replied. He gave Jack a gown. "Jack, I want you to undress and put this on for me." He stood up and joined them. "I want to do a CT scan to confirm, but in the '30s and '40s, lobotomies were often done via the eye socket."

Sara felt her stomach turn at the thought. Why on earth would depression-era medical practices have survived to be performed on this man?

"Right, right," Nick agreed with the doctor. "But, lobotomies … they're not common practice today?"

"Hardly," Dr. Mulligan replied.

He would have continued talking, but Sara cut him off. Her eyes fell on Jack's exposed arm, where the number 18 had been branded.

"Nick … take a look at his arm," she said softly.

Nick followed her eyes, and his expression softened. "He's not a suspect, he's a victim." He lowered his voice. "Jane Doe is number 19."

Sara looked at him with wide eyes. "What happened to these two?"

"I'd love to know," Nick said. "I'd also like to know what happened to the first seventeen."

Sara shuddered. "We're trying to catch a madman."

"Listen, I'll try to get some sense out him," Dr. Mulligan said. "We'll run some tests and bring our psychiatric unit down to talk to him. But … if I'm right, and he was lobotomized …"

"He's given us all he can," Sara said softly. "Okay. Thanks, Dr. Mulligan."

"You're welcome. I'll keep you posted."

Nick ushered Sara ahead of him, exhaling. "Well, that was …"

"Yeah," Sara said. "Every time I think I've seen the most horrible thing on this job, something like this happens."

"That's why we have to be here," Nick said grimly. "We have to put an end to it. Come on. Let's go tell Grissom."

* * *

Grissom was just as horrified as Sara and Nick had been with the news that Jack Landers had been lobotomized. He immediately pulled out several medical textbooks, looking for all the information he could find about lobotomies.

"Um, Griss, do you mind if we take a break?" Sara asked, glancing at Nick. "I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we need some time to process this one."

"Yeah, go ahead," Grissom said, looking at her with concern in his eyes. "I'll get Catherine if I need help."

"Thanks," Nick said gratefully. He turned to Sara. "Can I buy you dinner?"

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "Let's go."

Confident that Nick and Sara would take care of each other, Grissom turned back to his textbooks. He was interrupted only a few moments later by a knock at his door. He looked up to see Brass entering the office.

"The Jane Doe is Zoe Kessler," he announced. "Her mother saw her picture on the news and identified her as her estranged daughter. I did a DMV check and I have the victim's last known address."

"Good," Grissom said, putting his book on his desk. "I'll come with you."

"There's something you should know," Brass said as Grissom took off his glasses. "The mother's a friend of yours."

"Who's that?" Grissom asked distractedly, already thinking that he should try to find Catherine before they left.

"Lady Heather."

Grissom's head snapped up and he stared at Brass. "Our Jane Doe is Lady Heather's daughter?"

"Yes."

Grissom exhaled slowly, and ran his hand through his hair. "Okay. Let me get Catherine, and we'll go to the house."

"Gil …"

"What?" Already halfway to the door, Grissom stopped and turned to look at Brass again.

"Are you okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Gil, come on. This isn't just anyone. This is Lady Heather's daughter. You have a history with her mother."

"Which will not affect the outcome of this investigation. Come on. Let's go."

* * *

Grissom's mind spun as Catherine drove their SUV to Zoe's apartment building. He did remember Heather mentioning a daughter, but had not thought much about it at the time. It had been a brief comment, one that he had not thought to probe further.

He suddenly wished that he had.

How could something like this happen to Heather's daughter? How could the child of someone who preached empowerment find herself in a situation that recalled Nazi concentration camps?

Grissom gave himself a mental shake. That was his job – to figure out exactly what had happened to her. He would fight to give Heather closure.

It was the least that he could do.

* * *

Their search of Zoe's apartment yielded some insight into the young woman's life. Based on the postmarks on her mail, they determined that she had been missing for ten weeks before her death. Grissom found two pictures in her desk: one of Zoe with an older man, and one of her with Heather. He noted that she had one blue eye and one brown eye.

Listening to the messages on her answering machine told them that she had been a patient at the Betz Clinic, but nothing more. Brass promised to see what he could find.

"Once Brass gets the address and contact information, I'll go talk to the people at the clinic," Catherine volunteered as they left the apartment. "It looks like that was the last place Zoe visited before she disappeared. Maybe they'll be able to tell us something about what happened to her."

"Good," Grissom said. "Take Greg with you."

"All right." Catherine looked at him for a moment. "Have you talked to Heather yet?"

"No."

"You know … she's going to need a friend right now."

Grissom turned to look at her. "What do you want me to say, Cath? You know that I'm her friend."

"Just that you'll be there for her." She smiled slightly. "I think that you can let yourself get emotionally involved … just this once."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm just not sure that she'll want me to be emotionally involved."

Catherine raised an eyebrow, but, for once, didn't question him. Grissom was grateful. He didn't want to discuss his relationship with Lady Heather. It was almost too confused for him to understand, let alone to explain to someone else.

The truth was that he hadn't spoken to her since she had been a suspect in a murder investigation. Although she had been cleared, he had never truly forgiven himself for suspecting her of murder – particularly considering the fact that he had named her a suspect only hours after sharing her bed.

His cheeks flushed a faint pink as he thought of all that had happened. For a brief time, he had thought that Heather would be a woman with whom he could share his life. The fact that he couldn't was trivial; he was far happier with Sara than he would have been with Heather. Even so, their brief relationship had made things awkward between them.

No longer lovers, but not quite friends … Grissom wasn't sure how she'd react when they had their inevitable meeting. Then again, he wasn't sure how _he'd_ react, either.

* * *

She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. Even with her eyes full of tears and an expression of the deepest sorrow on her face, she was still one of the most beautiful women he had ever met.

But, now, after so much time, her beauty did not entrance him as it once had. Where he had once felt attraction, he now felt compassion. He wanted to comfort her, to provide her with some stability at a time when her entire world was tilting.

"Hi," he said. "I'm so sorry about your loss."

"But you need to ask me some questions," she said.

"I'd like to know some things about your daughter," Grissom said, knowing that she'd never object to talking about Zoe. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"She dropped out of school a year ago," Heather said, each word costing her a great deal. It was as though she had to force the words past her all-encompassing pain just to answer his questions. "I didn't even know she was in town."

"So, you weren't in contact with her?"

"No."

"Can you tell me why?"

"What difference does it make now?" She strained to get those words out without totally losing control and bursting into tears. It would have been perfectly acceptable, she knew, given the circumstances, but she couldn't allow herself even that small demonstration of weakness – not in front of _him_.

Sensing that he was losing the small part of her that was willing to speak with him, Grissom pressed on to the more urgent questions. "Did she have any medical conditions?"

"Not that I know of."

"Because in November, she participated in a medical study at the Betz Clinic. Right after that, she went missing."

Heather turned the tables on him with a question of her own. "Where was she found?"

"In the desert."

That answer was nearly more than she could bear. To think of her Zoe, her little girl, out in the desert, all alone … "Just out in the middle of nowhere?"

Almost against his better judgment, Grissom gave her the exact location. With his description of the highway, Heather's expression changed. Unmasked grief became grim determination.

"I have to go."

Without another word, she brushed by him. He turned to watch her go, exhaling.

Catherine was right. She needed his support. He just wasn't sure how to give it. And, he wasn't sure if she'd ever be willing to accept it.


	50. Slapped by the Past

A/N: Is this chapter late? Oh, yes. Is it long? Definitely. I'm hoping that one will make up for the other!

I am sorry about the tardiness of my work. It's been a really busy, stressful couple of weeks. But, the finals are graded, the books are packed and the seniors are graduated! So, school is most definitely out for summer, and I'm hoping to be able to update more frequently for awhile.

I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue for this chapter come from episode 615, "Pirates of the Third Reich."

* * *

_Slapped by the Past_

"Hey, there you are!"

Sara gave Nick a tired smile as she walked back into the lab after what felt like days in the hospital. "And there you are."

"Did you get the full story on Captain Jack?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. He was definitely lobotomized."

Nick flinched slightly. "Recently?"

"Recently," Sara confirmed.

"Oh, man. Could they tell you anything more?"

"Nothing aside from the fact that the lobotomy was done according to standard medical practices from the 1930s." She shook her head. "That poor man."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing – I'm never signing up for a sleep study," Nick said. "Not after what happened to Jack and Zoe."

"To whom?" Sara asked.

"Oh, that's right; you've been at the hospital, so you wouldn't have heard. We identified our Jane Doe as Zoe Kessler," Nick said, giving Sara a significant look.

Sara sighed. "Nick, I have spent the past eighteen hours at a hospital waiting to make sure that Jack was placed in an appropriate group home. If there's something I should know about the name Zoe Kessler, I have no idea what it is. Stop hoping that I'll remember on my own and just tell me."

Nick smiled. "Her mother is Heather Kessler. You may remember her as Lady Heather."

Sara's eyes widened. "The dominatrix?"

"Yup." He grinned. "Told you you'd be jealous after you didn't get to go to her house last time."

"Jealous?" Sara asked. "No, I wouldn't say that. Okay, so, do you need me to interview her, or …?"

"No," Nick said, his eyes showing a bit of disappointment. "Actually, you and I are going off on a different case."

"What?" Sara asked, clearly shocked.

"I know," Nick said. "This one looked far more interesting. But, we've got a homicide of our own. Looks like it might be a trick roll."

"A … Nick, wait. Who's taking Zoe Kessler's murder?"

"Grissom and Catherine."

"But …"

"I know," Nick said. "I was the first one on scene, I'll have you know. And, Warrick and I were the ones who found the suspect's house. But, you know, we have to do what the boss says. And, right now, he's saying that we have to take this trick roll at the Mirage."

Sara gave him what she hoped was a look of resigned acceptance. "Okay. Let's get going."

She was going to have to do a fabulous acting job. Because, right now, she felt anything but resigned acceptance. All she felt was that Grissom was trying to keep her as far away from his former girlfriend as possible.

* * *

"So, what have I missed?" Sara asked as they drove to the Mirage.

"Missed?"

"I've been with Captain Jack forever. What did I miss on the case?"

"It's not our case anymore," Nick said slowly.

"That doesn't make it any less interesting," Sara insisted.

Nick nodded his agreement. "I don't know what's wrong with Grissom. We were both on the case; we could have helped."

"Yeah, but someone needed to deal with this, too," Sara said fairly.

"It could have been Warrick," Nick said. He shook his head. "Anyway. Wendy tested the material found in Zoe's teeth and discovered that it was from her own hand."

"She chewed off her own hand?" Sara gasped.

"Yeah." Nick sighed. "That girl was seriously trapped, Sara. I'm guessing that she was handcuffed or bound in some way. Apparently, biting off her hand was better than whatever was in store for her."

"Yeah, considering what happened to Jack, that's a safe bet." Sara shivered. "Have we found the hand?"

"It became a priority, given that it had to be near the primary crime scene. Warrick and I went out with a bunch of cadets to find it. We pretty much followed the smell of decomp to the only house in the area. It's owned by Mr. Wolfowitz; he's the same man that runs the sleep studies at the Betz Clinic."

"Well, _that's_ an interesting coincidence," Sara said.

"Mm-hm," Nick agreed. "We took a sample of dirt that could have had her hand buried in it, but to do much else without a warrant …"

"Case-icide," Sara said. "Everything would have been inadmissible."

"Exactly. So, we went around to the house, thinking that maybe we'd find the owner – at that point, we didn't know who lived there – only to find that Lady Heather had broken in."

"_What_?" Sara gasped. "Why?"

Nick shrugged. "She's at PD now. Maybe we'll get more on that later."

"Right," Sara said. "Right after we wrap this homicide."

"Okay, we need to adjust our attitudes," Nick said with a smile. "So what if we're off the most intriguing case we've had in awhile? We do get a homicide of our own, and it could be just as interesting."

"Yeah, you're right," Sara agreed. "We'll have to see what's waiting for us at the Mirage."

* * *

"What happened, Jim?"

Brass shook his head. "Nick and Warrick caught her breaking and entering," he said.

"Why was she breaking and entering?" Grissom asked.

"Apparently, to steal an etching," Brass replied.

"An etching?"

"It's Wolfowitz's," Brass said. "We found it in her purse."

"Why did she want it?"

"She didn't say. She wouldn't tell them much. At this point, she's so messed up over her daughter, I have a feeling you might be the only one who will be able to get anything out of her."

Grissom sighed and looked into the observation room, where Heather sat, apparently quite at ease. "I can try."

"Okay, good. You take Lady Heather, and I'll talk to Wolfowitz."

"Jim …" Grissom said as he started to walk away. "We really need for him to press charges. Warrick said that place could very well be an evidence gold mine, but without probable cause for a warrant …"

"I'll do my best," Jim said.

Brass walked to his office, where Jacob Wolfowitz awaited him, and Grissom looked back into the observation room. He drew a deep breath. It was time to face the music that had been waiting him for over two years.

"Hi," he said quietly as he entered the room.

"Hello," Lady Heather said, looking not the least bit surprised to see him. "How are you?"

"I think I should be the one asking that question," Grissom said.

She shrugged. "At this point, I'd say you can tell me how I am. I'm in your custody, aren't I?"

"Heather …"

"Grissom?"

He decided to just begin the interview. "Are you and Mr. Wolfowitz acquainted?"

"No."

"Then why were you in his house?"

"Breaking and entering."

_Well, she certainly got to the point on that one. _"Is that why we found this etching in your handbag? You were stealing it?" Grissom asked.

"Yes."

The word was said without remorse, which was rather telling to Grissom. It was as if she had completely shut down all her emotions, and, along with them, her sense of right and wrong.

"Why?" he asked.

"Multiple reasons."

"Which are?"

"You told me Zoe was having tests done at Betz," Heather began, each word coming out with a measured quality, almost as though Grissom should have figured this out for himself. "I found out who oversaw the tests. Mr. Wolfowitz. He lives close to where you found Zoe. If I'm caught stealing, he may want the police to investigate."

"However," Grissom said, "if he refuses to press charges …"

"I'd have to ask myself what kind of person would do that."

"Someone with something to hide," Grissom acknowledged.

"Precisely," Heather said, pleased that Grissom understood.

"Why steal this?" Grissom asked, indicating the etching that sat on the table between them.

"It's one of the earliest illustrations of the Romulus and Remus myth," Heather explained. "It's printed from a plate. Must be worth thousands."

"So?"

"Well, it looks like a page from a book. I find that people who don't respect books have a general disregard for keeping things whole." Venom seeped into her words as she thought of Zoe, without her hand, without her eye, without her hair … She fought once again to remain in control, to master her emotions.

"So you think he stole it?" Grissom asked.

"I think a pencil pusher in a pharmaceutical lab couldn't afford it." Heather wouldn't actually say the words, but it was obvious that she did, indeed, think that he had stolen the page.

"Even if all this is true, we still don't know if he killed your daughter," Grissom said.

"Too many coincidences," Heather said.

Grissom knew that she was right, he knew that this man was the most probable suspect they had. Even so, he felt compelled to continue, "You have to stay away from him."

Heather looked at him for a moment, nodding slightly. "You forfeited the right to give me advice some time ago," she said, "but, thank you."

Grissom held her eyes, knowing what she was saying, even as she knew what he was saying. "Heather, the investigation …"

"I won't compromise it," she assured him.

"You'll keep your distance?"

"I won't compromise your investigation," she said again.

"You have to trust me with this," he said, leaning forward a bit.

"Yes," she agreed, her eyes clouding slightly. "I'm well-aware of that." She stood. "Are we done here?"

"Until Mr. Wolfowitz presses charges, you're free to go," Grissom said.

She gave him a twisted smile. "Don't worry. I won't go far."

Grissom watched as an officer escorted her out of the room and down the corridor to the building exit. He sighed and stood up, sliding the etching back into the evidence bag. He'd need to get it to the lab, but, first he wanted to talk to Brass.

By the time Grissom made his way to Brass's office, Mr. Wolfowitz was leaving it. Brass leaned against the doorframe and shook his head.

"He's not pressing charges?" Grissom asked.

"No," Brass said. "He said that she's disturbed by her the loss of her daughter, and, because he was the last one to see her alive, Heather is desperate to establish a connection with him."

"Under different circumstances, I'd say that his theory could be right," Grissom said. "But, Heather knew exactly what she was doing."

"She wanted him to press charges so we could go into the house and investigate?"

"Yes." Grissom looked at the evidence bag in his hand. "She even took something that she assumed to be stolen, hoping that we'd have to investigate him."

Brass exhaled. "That woman has an amazing mind. She could work for you."

"Hm," Grissom said, remembering how the conversation had turned toward the flirtatious when he had made a similar comment to Heather years ago. "You talked to Wolfowitz. Do you like him for this?"

"He's a strange one," Brass said. "He seems genuine, but a bit too jumpy. If you ask me, he's hiding something."

"That could be a very big 'something,'" Grissom said. He held up the evidence bag. "I'm going to get this to Rambar. If anyone can tell me if it's authentic and if it's been stolen, he can."

"Good luck," Brass said.

"Yeah," Grissom replied. "Thanks. I'll let you know what we find."

* * *

Sara and Nick did not find their case to be nearly as intriguing as Zoe Kessler's murder, but it still required a good deal of attention. Sara was glad. She needed something to keep her mind off Grissom's attitude toward her and Heather.

She walked into the lab with samples to drop off with Hodges and Wendy, while Nick was getting the autopsy report from Robbins. She had nearly made it to the Trace Lab when Grissom came toward her. Sara smiled.

"Hey," she said. "I haven't seen you in awhile."

Grissom returned her smile and shrugged. "It's the job."

"Do you think you'll get off on time?" Sara asked. "We could go out for breakfast …" _Or stay in._ Although she did not voice that invitation, it was written all over her face.

"I don't think that I can," Grissom said. "I just got called out to another homicide."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "You're done with Zoe Kessler's homicide?"

The words were innocent enough, but the undercurrent was clear. She knew exactly what was going on. Knowing that he'd have to just wait and deal with it later, Grissom shook his head.

"This one is related," he said. "I have to meet Brass at the scene right now."

"Right," Sara agreed. "Well, I'll see you later, then."

Grissom nodded. "See you."

He walked off, leaving Sara alone in the hallway. She shook her head, marveling at the lengths he would go to in the name of keeping her away from Lady Heather.

* * *

Discovering that Jacob Wolfowitz was dead in his car at the Betz Clinic was surprising, to say the least. Discovering that his frozen-to-the-core condition meant that he had been dead for at least two days was shocking. Discovering the brand on his arm that indicated that he was test subject number one was horrifying.

Grissom left the morgue and found Catherine in the lab. She raised her eyebrows as he approached her.

"That doesn't look like a happy face," she said. "Doc didn't have good news for you?"

"Doc had confusing news for me," he replied. "It would appear that Mr. Wolfowitz has been dead for at least two days."

"Well, that doesn't make sense," Catherine said. "Greg and I interviewed him yesterday. Jim interviewed him yesterday."

"I know."

"So, then how …?"

"He also has a number one branded onto his arm."

Catherine stopped and stared at him. "Wait. None of this makes sense at all."

"It would appear that he was our killer's first victim," Grissom said. "And, my guess would be that he was killed and then frozen – or, frozen to death. Either way, Robbins said it would take at least two days to get him to his current condition."

"Gil, I saw him," Catherine said. "_Yesterday_. He wasn't frozen."

Grissom looked at her silently as they walked down the hall.

"I mean, maybe he knew too much," Catherine rationalized. "Someone at Betz sensed that we were getting to close, and …"

"So, what?" Grissom asked in disbelief. "They dumped him in liquid nitrogen? Cryogenically froze him?"

"Well, I know what I saw," Catherine said.

"You've got to find some explanation," Grissom said.

"I'm on it," Catherine replied.

They parted ways. Catherine headed into the garage to process Wolfowitz's car, while Grissom headed for the parking garage. It was finally time to go home.

He got onto the elevator, thinking that perhaps he wouldn't go straight home. He could stop at Sara's place first. Although he wasn't in the mood for a fight, he knew that he needed to explain to her what was going on with the case, and, more importantly, with Heather.

Deciding that this was the best course of action, he stepped off the elevator and walked toward his car. His steps slowed and stopped as he realized that his car had company. Heather stood next to it, waiting for him.

"What are you doing here?" He mentally cringed at how abrupt his words were. Sara had accused him of being abrupt when he was half-asleep. Apparently, he could add when he was tired to that list.

"I think I might be able to help you," she replied, undeterred by his tone.

"I'm listening," Grissom said in a softer, gentler voice.

Heather stepped around the car to be closer to him. "You would have liked Zoe," she said. "She was a lot like you. Thoughtful, pragmatic, patient. She was studying psychology." She swallowed, her words becoming choppy. "I appreciate that it would have been difficult to have someone like me as a mother. But, if I stressed anything, it was empowerment and independence."

Sorrow changed to anger as she continued, "So, when she called me from Boston last year to tell me that she was pregnant with her therapist's baby, I got angry. Not with her, with him. He violated an oath. Not only was he married, she was a patient. A junior in college with her whole life in front of her."

"And you didn't want him to screw it up," Grissom observed.

Heather nodded in acknowledgement of the truth of his statement. "I called the AMA, filed a complaint, they revoked his license. Zoe stopped speaking to me."

"Did she have her baby?" Grissom asked.

"Your coroner couldn't confirm." Heather fought against the tears that lingered just below the surface. To think that she had a grandchild, a little piece of Zoe, _somewhere_, was almost more than she could bear. She needed, desperately, to change the subject. She reached into her purse to fish out the true reason she had come to Grissom. "I assumed you might need a DNA sample from Mr. Wolfowitz."

Grissom took the plastic bag holding a used condom and stared first at it, then at her. "How did you get this?" He feared that he already knew the answer to that question.

"The rage was stronger than the repulsion."

Grissom stared at her, trying to see past the rage in her eyes, trying to see into her soul. How could she have made such a decision? Done such a thing?

"People have used sex for much less-worthy causes," she continued, anger practically sparking off her.

Shoving aside his own repulsion, Grissom slipped back into investigative mode. "When did you …?"

"Last night."

Grissom remained silent, staring at her, his mind in over-drive. Catherine, Greg, Brass, Heather … how could so many people have interacted with a dead man on the same day?

Misinterpreting his silence, Heather began to speak, rationalizing all she had done. "You may not approve, Grissom, but you can't arrest me for sleeping with him. He was consenting. I _am_ playing by your rules. But, if I had it my way, this man would die the same way my daughter died."

"He's already dead," Grissom said.

"What?" Heather asked in shock.

"He's been dead for two days."

"That's not possible."

"We don't know what happened yet, but he most definitely is dead," Grissom said. "He's in our morgue right now."

"Grissom … I saw him yesterday."

"Yeah," Grissom acknowledged, "there seems to be a lot of that going around."

Heather glanced at the bag in his hand, then back into his eyes. "I didn't kill him," she said. "I slept with him in the hopes of getting you a DNA sample, but I didn't kill him. I just told you that I was following your rules. I meant that."

"My rules, Heather, were that you stay away from him. Look, I appreciate your efforts, but we would have gotten this anyway. You were right; the etching was stolen from a book. It was enough to get a warrant to go into his house."

"What are you saying?" she asked, anger jumping into her eyes. "That you don't need my help?"

"No, Heather, that's not what I –"

"This is my _daughter_, Grissom! She's not some nameless, unknown homicide victim. She deserves justice!"

"And, we'll find it for her," he assured her. "Just … Heather, please, let me do this. Let me and my team do our jobs."

She held his eyes for a moment, then turned and left without a word.

Grissom sighed and watched her go. Once she was out of sight, he looked back at the bag in his hand.

So much for leaving. He turned to go back into the lab.

* * *

Catherine, after hours of work, finally made sense of the madness. She discovered that Jacob Wolfowitz was a twin. He and his brother, Leon Sneller, had been adopted as babies by a Jewish couple. While Jacob had remained in the United States, Leon had joined the Army as a medic and was stationed in Berlin. Catherine theorized that Leon had come home from Germany, killed his brother, put the body on ice, and then spent a year impersonating him.

"All right," Grissom said at last. "You're right; it's a little out there, but, in a way, it makes sense. We've got to get to that house and see what we can find."

Accompanied by Brass and a veritable army of cops, Grissom and Catherine went to the house. After the police had cleared the empty house, Brass entered with Grissom and Catherine. They stepped inside, and stared around in shock.

"Well, this isn't a torture chamber," Grissom said, "it's a time capsule."

"Wolfowitz inherited the house from his parents," Brass said. "He took over the deed about ten years ago."

"Love what he's done with the place," Catherine said sarcastically.

Grissom smiled. It was obvious that Wolfowitz had kept the house exactly as it had been during his childhood.

While Catherine found an unmarked bottle of pills that Brass referred to as "the company candy," Grissom uncovered a hidden door in the floor that led to the basement. They descended the stairs, all feeling nervous anticipation. Brass went first, his gun raised. Grissom and Catherine followed, both shining flashlights that illuminated the torture chamber they had all expected to find from the very beginning.

Walking slowly around the room, staring in shock at the outdated medical instruments and organs kept in jars, they maintained their silence. It was enough to just take in all that they saw; they couldn't bring themselves to comment.

Grissom was the one to break the silence as he looked at the notebooks on the desk. "It would appear that he was meticulously documenting experiments," he said.

Catherine glanced at him, understanding in a moment how he had found his tongue. Experiments and documentation were two things they could understand. As for the rest …

"I think this is a gynecological device from a hundred years ago," Catherine said in shock, stopping in front of the piece of equipment.

Grissom glanced up and caught sight of Nazi symbols hanging from the walls, along with the German words that he translated to mean, "Work will set you free."

"These words hung over the gates at Auschwitz," he said.

"Zoe Kessler would have made the perfect uber-woman, except for her one brown eye," Catherine said, raising her hand to tap the side of a jar that held an eye swimming in, presumably, formaldehyde.

"So," Brass said, reaching out to pick up a hand saw, "I guess what nature couldn't fix, our Doctor Mengele could, is that it?"

Catherine and Grissom noted that the face of clock was blank; without saying the words, they were both sure that the metal numbers that should have been used to tell time were instead used to brand the doctor's victims.

A muffled groan split the silence that had fallen again. With barely a glance at one another, Grissom and Brass pushed aside the clock to reveal another room. A man was lying in the middle of the floor, clearly in agony. He was naked, with a bloody sheet covering something behind him.

They rushed forward. Brass grabbed the man's wrist to feel for his pulse, while Catherine began talking to him, trying to get his attention. Grissom crouched down behind him and pulled back the bloody sheet. A second man lay under it. The two men had been fused together, a series of stitches connecting their backs. Catherine started in horror, tears filling her eyes. Brass rushed from the room to call the paramedics. Grissom reached down to feel for a pulse, then looked at Catherine, knowing that the shock and horror in her eyes were reflected in his.

"This one's dead," he said quietly.

Catherine exhaled, struggling not to let the tears fall.

The paramedics arrived quickly, and took the two men to the hospital. Catherine and Brass rode along with them, leaving Grissom and his guard of uniforms at the house.

Grissom began to carefully process the torture chamber. He sat at the desk and read through some of Sneller's notes, staring at the words of Hitler that he had copied onto the page. In his journal, Sneller asserted that his work was no different than the government's, citing various examples of human experimentation throughout history.

Knowing that he had reached the point of reading all he could, Grissom left the journals and began documenting the various rooms. He discovered a room that had a long, low iron pole running its length. Handcuffs dangled from it, obviously used to hold their victims in place until the doctor was ready for them. As he began snapping pictures, Grissom noted that all but one handcuff were open. He lowered his camera, realizing that the closed handcuff must have been the one that held Zoe. After chewing off her hand, she would have been able to escape without opening it.

In the corner of the room, Grissom found the numbers from the clock, along with a fire pit and pokers. He took pictures of the instruments used to brand the victims, then lowered his camera again.

He had reached his limit. He couldn't take in any more. Without looking back, he went back up the stairs to the rest of the house.

Being on the first floor of the house was a massive relief. As Grissom closed the trap door, the sense of horror and nausea that had nearly overpowered him in the basement began to lift.

He glanced forward, his eyes falling on a necklace that lay on the floor. He clicked his flashlight on and stepped closer. He picked up the necklace, recognizing it at once.

_Heather_.

"Have you guys secured the entire perimeter, the house and the barn?" Grissom asked.

"Yes, sir," Officer Metcalf replied. "All clear."

She was gone, but she had been there, in the house. Heather was gone, Sneller was gone …

Grissom dropped the necklace and nearly ran from the house. He jumped into his SUV and began the drive that he was sure would lead him to both of them. Back down the highway, back to where they had found Zoe …

Grissom could see them before he reached them. Sneller was tied to the front of an SUV, its headlights illuminating Heather, who stood several feet in front of him, lashing him again and again with a leather whip.

Grissom turned off the road and drove to them, his own headlights adding to the illumination that cut through the darkness. He jumped out of SUV.

"Heather!" he yelled, advancing toward them. "Stop it!"

"Let me finish!" she growled.

She swung her whip back, ready to strike him again. Grissom caught it, pulling her around to face him. She gasped as she turned.

"You cannot do this," Grissom yelled, using the whip to pull her closer.

She struggled against him, trying desperately to free her whip from his grip of iron. "Let go!" she nearly sobbed. "Let go!"

"No!" Grissom yelled.

"Please!" she begged. "Please!"

"Stop!" Grissom yelled. Realizing the one way to get through to her, he lowered his voice. "Heather," he said slowly and firmly, "I'm saying _stop_."

His words cut through the haze of revenge and pain that surrounded her, and she looked up at him, truly seeing him for the first time. She stared him as he moved closer to her, keeping a firm grip on the whip. When he was finally close enough, Heather began to sob, collapsing against him.

Grissom held her tightly, letting her sob out her grief and anguish. When she finally had herself at least somewhat under control, he pulled back enough to look at her.

"Heather, I want you to go sit in my car. Can you do that for me? I'll be right here, and I'll join you in a minute, but I want you to sit in the car for now."

She nodded slowly, and released him. He waited until she was safely in the passenger seat, then pulled out his phone. He needed to call for help.

"Brass."

"Jim, I need your help," Grissom said. "I found Sneller."

"Where?" Brass asked in shock.

"Where we found Zoe Kessler, off Highway 55."

"Returning to the scene?" Brass asked incredulously.

"Sort of," Grissom said. He paused. "Heather found him first."

A pause. "Is he alive?"

"Yes. I stopped her before …"

"Okay. I'll call the paramedics and be there as soon as I can."

"We'll be waiting."

After putting his phone back in his pocket, Grissom stepped closer to Sneller.

"I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab," he said. "I'm going to untie you. "But, if you try to escape, I will handcuff you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Sneller gasped.

"Good. The paramedics are on their way now."

"Okay."

Grissom untied his bonds, and the man fell to the ground. Grissom helped him into a seated position, and offered him water. He looked him over, noting that while he had many open, bleeding wounds, none were life-threatening. He was sure that he would be fine.

The paramedics arrived and took over with Sneller. Brass, just a step behind them, joined Grissom.

"What happened?" he asked.

Grissom nodded toward the whip that he had dropped on the ground.

"How did you know?"

"I found her necklace at the house," he said. "Metcalf told me that the entire perimeter was clear, and this was the most likely spot for her to have taken him."

Brass nodded, and looked back toward Grissom's car, where Heather sat in the front seat, shivering slightly.

"Take her home," he said. "I'll call Warrick and Greg to take the scene."

"You don't want to question her?"

"It's pretty obvious what happened," Brass said. "I'm sure the DA won't press charges. No jury is going to convict a woman for beating up the man who killed her daughter and twenty other people. If I need a statement, I'll call her in later."

"Okay," Grissom replied. He took his phone out and turned it off. He had a feeling that Heather was going to need his full attention. "If Catherine asks, tell her where I am."

"She's at the hospital with the men from the torture chamber right now," Brass said. "Somehow, I have a feeling she'll be busy enough without worrying about you."

Grissom smiled slightly. "Thanks, Jim."

"Anytime."

Grissom left Brass and went to his SUV. He climbed into the driver's seat and looked at Heather. She was staring straight ahead, oblivious to the fact that he had joined her.

Grissom backed out slowly, and began the drive to Heather's house.

* * *

_Hi, you've reached Gil Grissom with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I'm not available to take your call right now. Please leave me a detailed message. I'll get in touch with you as soon as I can. Thank you._

Sara slammed her phone closed in utter frustration. She had been trying to reach Grissom for over three hours, but his phone was turned off.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. She wasn't being very rational. She knew that he and Catherine had gone to Sneller's house, which was in the middle of nowhere. Chances were that he didn't have service.

Feeling comforted by that thought, she left the break room and walked down the hall. She walked past the locker room, just barely catching sight of Catherine, who was sitting alone on a bench. Stopping short, Sara backed up and stepped inside the room.

"Cat? Are you okay?"

Catherine looked up at her slowly. She gave her a small smile. "This one may take some time to get over."

Sara sat down next to her. "He really did have a torture chamber, then?"

"Yeah." Catherine shook her head. "It's funny, Sara, how different things affect you. I really thought that I had been on this job for enough years that nothing could shock me like this anymore. But, seeing those medical instruments, the human organs in jars, his notes on human experimentation, those poor men he had tried to fuse together …" She shuddered. "It was horrible. I'm going to tell Grissom that I need a day off after this one."

Sara frowned slightly. "Where is Grissom? Still at the house?"

"No, not anymore. He was there far longer than I was, though." Catherine shivered. "Brass said Grissom found Lady Heather exacting her revenge on Sneller."

Sara's eyes widened. "What?"

"She went all dominatrix on him." Cold anger filled Catherine's eyes. "In her place, I'd have done the same. Grissom stopped her before she could kill him, and, according to Brass, he took her home."

"Is he coming back here?"

Catherine shrugged. "I don't know. For his sake, I hope not. I'm sure he needs a break as much as I do."

"Yeah," Sara said quietly.

Catherine stood up. "I need to get out of here, Sar. Thanks for letting me talk."

"Sure," Sara replied. "I'll see you later, then."

"Right." Catherine picked up her purse. "If you talk to Grissom, tell him that I'm not coming in tomorrow."

With that, Catherine left. Sara stared after her for a minute, then took out her phone again. She hit the Talk button twice to redial Grissom's number.

_Hi, you've reached Gil Grissom with –_

Sara closed her phone and held it against her lips for a moment. She closed her eyes, then slowly opened them. Before talking to Catherine, she had been trying to call Grissom for an update on the case. After talking to her, she wanted – no, _needed_ – to know that he was dealing with everything. She needed to know that he was all right.

"Where are you, Griss?" she whispered. "Why won't you take my calls?"

Deciding to go with the most logical option, she figured that he had likely gone home. Thinking that she'd go over to check on him, she pulled her purse from her locker and left the lab.

* * *

Heather finally broke her silence as they pulled up to her house. She glanced at Grissom.

"You brought me home."

He nodded. "And, now, I'm going to take you inside."

Heather nodded her agreement and unbuckled her seatbelt. Grissom helped her from the car and led her up the walkway to the front door. Heather had the presence of mind to unlock it, and allowed Grissom to lead her inside.

"Come on," he said, taking her back to the kitchen. "You need some tea."

Heather followed him meekly, sitting down at the table. Grissom worked his way through her kitchen until he had found everything he needed to make the tea. After putting the kettle on the stove, he joined her at the table.

"You stopped me," she said, letting her eyes bore into his. "Why?"

Grissom thought for a moment. "You taught Zoe empowerment and independence," he said slowly. "Killing Sneller would have shown neither. You gave your power, independence and strength away. Anger, rage and pain took their place. You gave your power to him, and let him control you. Zoe wouldn't have wanted to see you like that – and, _you_ wouldn't have wanted for her to see you like that."

Heather nodded slowly. "He deserves to die for what he did."

"A judge and jury will decide that," Grissom said. "We have to play by the rules, Heather. Remember?"

The tea kettle began to sing, and Grissom got up to rescue it.

"I don't like your rules," Heather said, watching him as he pour the boiling water over teabags.

"You don't have to like them," Grissom said. "You just have to play by them."

Grissom brought her a cup of tea, careful to make sure that it didn't have sugar in it. Heather lifted it to her lips automatically. She took a sip, and tears filled her eyes.

"Why Zoe?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper. "Why my little girl?"

Grissom pulled her into his arms as she dissolved into tears, letting her cry against his chest.

He sat with her while she cried herself to the point of exhaustion, then helped her to bed. Once she was settled, he turned to leave the room. Heather grabbed his hand, holding him in place.

"Don't leave me," she begged. "Please, Grissom, stay."

Grissom nodded, and sat down on the floor next to her bed. "I'll be right here. I promise."

* * *

Sara lay stretched out across Grissom's couch, flipping from one show to the next, trying to find something that would keep her awake. She was fighting exhaustion with each passing minute. The fact that Hank had finally wimped out on her and fallen asleep next to the couch didn't help.

The dog's deep, even, breathing, combined with the canned laughter of the sitcom on tv, finally lulled Sara to sleep.

* * *

When Heather awoke several hours later, Grissom was still sitting on the floor next to her bed. She gave him a small smile.

"You stayed."

"Of course," he said, moving closer to her. "I promised that I would."

"You could have come into the bed with me."

"Ah … no, Heather, I couldn't."

Her eyes clouded momentarily. "You're in a relationship."

"Yes. I am."

"Is it serious?"

Grissom nodded, realizing, perhaps for the first time, just how serious he was about Sara. "Yes."

She nodded. "How does she feel about the fact that you spent so much time with me?"

"I'm sure she won't mind."

"Then, you've found yourself a very understanding woman."

Grissom smiled. "She's certainly special."

Heather nodded. "You should be with her now."

"I don't want to leave you alone."

"I'm fine now."

Grissom looked at her silently.

"Perhaps 'fine' is going a bit far," she acknowledged. "But, truly, Grissom, I'll be okay on my own. You don't have to babysit me anymore."

He looked at her closely. "You're sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes. I'll be fine. You need to rest, anyway. You've probably been awake for a week by now."

Grissom smiled. "You'll call me if you need anything?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

She smiled slightly. "I promise."

"Okay, then," he said, standing up. "I'll call to check on you later."

"Don't," she said with a shake of her head. "I'll be fine."

Realizing that she didn't want him to see her in her state of grief anymore, Grissom nodded. "Okay. Well, good bye, then."

"Grissom?"

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned to face her. "Yes?"

"Thank you. For everything."

He nodded. "You're welcome."

"Good bye."

"Good bye."

* * *

Grissom walked into his house, feeling the weight of the day slip from his shoulders. There was something about being home that always made things seem less horrible.

Hank skidded across the hardwood floor to meet him at the door. Grissom smiled at the dog, and patted his head.

"Hey, buddy," he said. "Miss me?"

He walked further into the house, stopping short at the sight of Sara sound asleep on his couch. He looked at the dog.

"When did she get here?"

Hank looked up at him and licked his hand. Grissom patted him again, rather absentmindedly this time, and crossed the room. He leaned down over Sara's sleeping form, and brushed a kiss against her forehead.

Sara stirred, struggling to open her eyes. She smiled up at him. "Hey."

"Hi, sweetheart," Grissom said. "How long have you been here?"

Sara sat up straight, suddenly remembering everything that had happened. "Where have you been?" she asked.

"With Heather," he replied, sitting down next to her. "Didn't Brass and Catherine tell you where I was?"

"Did you tell them to?"

"Sara, you know I couldn't do that. It would give too much away."

She sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. "You should have called."

"Sara, I couldn't exactly leave her alone. Did they tell you what happened?"

Sara sighed. "Yes, Gil. Catherine told me that you stopped Lady Heather from killing Sneller, and that you took her home."

"Well, then, why did you ask?"

She shook her head. "Catherine was a mess when I saw her, Griss. This case really screwed with her mind. She told me that she's going to take today off to distance herself. I needed to know that you were dealing better than she was. That you were okay. But, no matter how many times I called you, I just kept getting your voicemail."

"I was with Heather, Sara," Grissom said slowly. "She needed support far more than I did."

"And, you couldn't have just called to tell me that?"

"Are you mad that I was with her?" Grissom asked.

"Not exactly …"

"Sara, come on. She had just lost her daughter in the most horrific way I could ever imagine. She needed me."

"Yeah, well, I needed to know that you were okay," Sara said, her anger truly beginning to show. "Would it have been so hard to call me and let me know where you were, rather than assuming that Brass or Catherine would think to tell me? It's not like they know that I'm your girlfriend and that I'd be concerned. Or, here's a thought, maybe you could have just turned on your phone long enough to know that I had called and was worried about you?"

"Okay, I'll admit that I may have handled this badly. But, I need to know why you're so upset. Is it because I was with Heather? Because, you have to know, nothing happened between me and Heather." As soon as the words were out, Grissom knew that they weren't entirely true. "Well, something did, but it was years ago … long before you and I were dating."

"Well, then, why is it that you made such an effort to keep me away from her?"

Grissom stared at her.

"Look, Gil, I'm not the jealous type. Maybe I should be, after everything that happened with me and Hank, but I just can't make myself worry about that. I trust you. I trust that you'll be faithful to me. I trust that our relationship is strong enough to withstand something like this."

"Okay …" Grissom said slowly.

"But, that doesn't make me any less concerned about you. It doesn't mean that you're allowed to intentionally hide parts of your life from me." She smiled slightly. "We're both adults. We've both been in relationships before. We both have romantic pasts. We both have to accept that."

"Okay," Grissom said again.

"But, you can't just shut me out. _Tell me_ that your former girlfriend is the mother of a homicide victim! Don't hope that I'll hear it from Nick after you've taken both of us off the case and assigned us another. I won't be nearly as upset if you're honest and upfront with me as I will if you distance yourself." She shook her head. "You're a CSI, Gil. You know that when someone acts like he's hiding something, it's usually because he's guilty."

"I'm not guilty of anything," Grissom said. "Look, I did have a physical relationship with Heather. It was years ago, and it ended very quickly." He touched her face. "She's … she's not _you_, Sara. She could never hope to be. But, she is my friend, and, last night, she needed me."

"Your former lover needed you?"

"You don't have to make it sound like that."

Sara sighed. "Can you just … call and tell me where you are from now on? Please?"

"Yeah," Grissom said, smiling at her.

"What's with the smile?"

He smiled wider. "It's just nice to have someone who cares where I am."

"Well, I do care." Her eyes clouded. "And, Griss?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you swear to me that nothing happened last night?"

Grissom caressed her face again. "Sara, I sat on the floor next to her bed all night long. I swear to you, nothing happened."

"You weren't … tempted?"

He smiled. "How could I be? I have you. I don't need her, or anyone else."

Sara sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Okay, then."

"We're okay?" Grissom asked a bit tentatively.

"As long as you never do anything like that again … yeah, we're okay."

He smiled and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "Good. I won't, so we're okay."


	51. Outsmarted

A/N: For some reason, this chapter was hard for me to write. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 618, "The Unusual Suspect."

* * *

_Outsmarted_

"You know, I'm starting to think that these lectures are all a cover story that you tell us so you can have some time off."

Grissom laughed as he packed his shoes into his suitcase. "Catherine once accused me of using them as a cover to visit my out of town mistress."

"When was that?" Sara asked with a grin, handing him his bag full of toiletries.

Grissom winked at her. "When I went to San Francisco for that last lecture."

"Well, she may have been on to something with that one," Sara teased.

"I don't think that you were my out of town mistress," Grissom said.

"What was I, then?" Sara asked, raising an eyebrow.

Grissom studied her for a moment. "My friend."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Please."

"You were!" Grissom said defensively.

Sara laughed. "So, you'll be gone for a week?"

"Five days," Grissom corrected.

"Whatever. It's still longer than necessary."

"Tell that to New Mexico State University. I have a feeling the biology department would be very disappointed if I cancelled."

"Even if I explained to them that I'll miss you very much?"

"Even then," Grissom smiled.

"Oh, fine," Sara sighed.

Grissom zipped his suitcase closed, then pulled Sara into a warm embrace. She smiled, and laid her head on his shoulder.

"I _will_ miss you," she said quietly.

"I'll bring you something pretty from New Mexico," he said in a placating tone.

Sara giggled. "Oh, well, in that case, have a nice trip."

Grissom chuckled and tipped her chin up to kiss her. "I'll miss you, too, sweetheart."

"Call me when you get there?"

"Of course."

Sara kissed him once more, then pulled back. "You should go. I don't want you to miss your flight."

Grissom nodded. "I'll see you on Saturday."

"Have a safe trip."

Grissom nodded, blew her a kiss, and left.

Sara sighed. Five days without him would be tough. At least she'd have her work to keep her busy.

* * *

As Sara walked into the lab for the beginning of her shift, her phone started to vibrate. Pulling it from her pocket, she read the text message from Catherine. Short and to the point, it said only "layout room." Changing the direction of her steps, Sara headed that way. It would appear that her work would, indeed, keep her very busy.

"Good, you're here," Catherine said as Sara entered the layout room. Warrick was already there, but Nick was nowhere to be seen.

"What's up?" Sara asked.

"Nick ran into trouble in court today," Catherine said. "He'll give us all the details when he gets here with his evidence, but we're in a race against the clock."

"Another one of these?" Sara almost groaned.

"Yeah. From what Ecklie told me, we have a teenager on trial for murder, but his sister confessed to the crime while on the stand. The judge gave us seventy-two hours to sort it out."

"Sounds like fun," Warrick said sarcastically.

"And, on top of everything else, we're short-handed," Catherine said. "Greg's on vacation this week, and Grissom's lecturing in Phoenix."

"Las Cruces," Sara corrected without thinking about it.

"That's right, he's in New Mexico," Catherine said. She blinked and turned to Sara. "How did you remember that?"

Sara shrugged, hoping that her face wasn't turning red. "Good memory."

Catherine frowned slightly, then shrugged. "Well, wherever they are, Grissom and Greg have left us on our own."

"Fantastic," Warrick said. "Do we have any help?"

"The swing shift supervisor said we can borrow someone if we need to, but I'd rather not," Catherine said. "I think we can make this happen."

"Trying to prove something to Ecklie?" Warrick asked with a grin.

Catherine smiled slightly. "We can do this, Warrick."

"Okay, I'm ready," Nick said as he rushed into the room carrying two evidence boxes, one stacked on top of the other. "Is everyone here?"

"Yes," Catherine said. "Let's hear it."

Nick began to walk them through his case, pulling out piece after piece of evidence to support his arguments. Stacy Vollmer, a popular high school student, had been killed by a blow to the head. In what was likely a teenage prank, a showerhead in the school's gym locker room had been loaded with sodium. With "Out of Order" signs on all the other showers, Stacy had used the sabotaged shower, which exploded. Stunned and injured by the explosion, Stacy had grabbed the shower curtain and wrapped herself in it before running, disoriented, through the school. She had tripped and fallen down the stairs; the blow to her head as she hit the bottom had proved fatal. After she had bled out at the bottom of the staircase, her body had been moved across the football field and buried in an area where landscapers had been working.

All evidence pointed to Marlon West, one of Stacy's classmates, as the one who had sabotaged the showerhead and buried Stacy's body. When confronted, he had confessed to the crime. However, despite the fact that he had waived his rights to have a parent, attorney or advocate with him while he was questioned, the confession was ruled inadmissible because he had not had a child advocate present.

Certain that the case was solid, the DA proceeded without the confession. It was quite likely that Marlon would have been convicted had his sister, Hannah, not confessed to the crime while on the stand – sporting a dirt- and blood-stained shirt that she said she had been wearing at the time of the murder.

"Do you have any physical evidence that would conclusively rule Hannah out as a suspect?" Sara asked.

"Well, yeah," Nick said with a hint of a smile, "she's four foot three and sixty-five pounds. The crime just required more strength than she's got."

"How old is she?" Catherine asked.

"Twelve."

"In high school?" Warrick asked incredulously.

"She's a high school _senior_," Nick said. "She skipped six grades. She's a prodigy."

"Which means," Sara said, "she has the _brains_ for murder."

"Yeah, but not the brawn," Nick argued. "The body was moved from the high school building all the way across a football field and then hastily buried. The vic's car was then driven two miles from the high school campus and parked in front of the house of a kid named Scott Baird, Stacy's boyfriend – I think, possibly, to frame him."

After dismissing Scott as a viable suspect – he had been out of town for a basketball game at the time of the murder – Nick brought the argument back to Marlon.

"This kid's been in trouble before," he said. "Multiple fights, threats. It just got out of hand this time. Marlon West killed Stacy Vollmer. His little sister's just trying to exonerate him."

"Okay," Catherine said. "Nick, I appreciate that you want to stick to your guns on this one, but let's make sure that we process all the new evidence before we get too excited. Now, does Hodges have a sample from the shirt Hannah was wearing in court?"

"Yes," Nick said.

"Good. We'll get the results on that as soon as he has them. Nick, you're still running this investigation. Nothing that's happened is the result of an error on your part, so there's no need to remove you from the case. Sara, you're his immediate back-up. Warrick and I will help out where we can, but we've also got to take all the new cases that are coming in. How does that sound?"

"Great," Nick said.

"Fine with me," Sara agreed.

"Good," Catherine said. "I'm going to go light a fire under Hodges. Keep me updated, okay?"

"We're on it," Nick said. He turned to Sara. "Sofia's going to start questioning Hannah soon. Do you want to be there for that?"

"Sure," Sara said. "I'll head over now; I want to talk to her about Marlon's inadmissible confession."

"Good. I'll page you as soon as I hear from Hodges."

* * *

Sofia echoed Nick's opinion that Marlon was guilty. She told Sara that she had looked into his eyes as he had confessed; there was no doubt in her mind that he had been telling the truth. Knowing exactly what it was like to look into the eyes of a murderer, Sara couldn't argue with her.

"Okay," Sofia said, stopping in front of the interrogation room where Hannah and her advocate waited, "are you ready for this?"

Sara frowned. "I've interrogated children before, Sofia."

"Yeah," Sofia agreed, "but, not like this one."

Sara's frown deepened.

"Just … be prepared."

Sofia opened the door, and they walked into the interrogation room. Hannah was sitting at the table, her hands folded in front of her, her feet swinging several inches above the floor. She gave them a smile.

"Hello, Detective Curtis."

"Hi, Hannah," Sofia said as she and Sara sat down across from Hannah and the child advocate. "This is Sara Sidle, one of our crime scene investigators. She works with CSI Stokes."

"Right," Hannah said. "He thinks that Marlon killed Stacy. He's wrong. Marlon didn't do it."

"Mr. Stokes isn't the only one who thinks that Marlon killed Stacy," Sofia said. "Marlon told me himself that he killed her."

"He didn't," Hannah said calmly. "I did."

Sofia smiled slightly. "Two confessions, one crime. We don't get that a lot."

Hannah remained silent.

"When did you last speak with Marlon?" Sofia asked.

"The day the police came to my house and arrested him," Hannah replied. She explained that her parents would not allow her to visit him in jail, stating that it was a bad environment for her. "Marlon didn't put me up to this," she insisted. "He was trying to protect me. It would have been wrong to let him be punished for something I did."

Sara glanced at Sofia, who was looking down at her notebook, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Seeing her expression, Sara found it difficult not to smirk.

"You don't think I did it," Hannah said, looking between them. "Neither one of you."

"It's a big job," Sara said. "For a little girl," she added.

"Not if you have the right tools," Hannah said.

"Smart kid like you," Sara said, "knows your brother's suffering. You feel bad, you want to help … so, you fabricate some evidence."

"Um, if you thought the evidence was fake, I wouldn't still be in jail," Hannah said.

Sara and Sofia again exchanged a glance. Hannah's intelligence tempered her typical teenage attitude with an incredible amount of arrogance. Sara could hardly believe that this twelve-year-old was talking down to her and Sofia.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I did it?" she asked.

"Would you like to tell us?" Sara asked.

Hannah nodded, and launched into the story of her high school experience. She described throwing off the curve with her genius-level intelligence, suffering through practical jokes and pranks on a daily basis, tutoring Stacy's boyfriend …

"You like him," Sara observed with a smile.

Hannah didn't deny Sara's words, but gave all the reasons she _shouldn't_ like Scott, ending with, "I'm twelve. I'm not allowed to like him."

Hannah said that Stacy had asked Scott to give her a dress for the spring dance as a peace-offering after pulling a prank on her. Hannah, willing to trust anything that came from Scott, had taken the dress. She wore it to the dance, only to find that Stacy had written several insults on it in ink that, while invisible in normal lighting, glowed brightly under the black lights at the dance.

She continued, saying that, in an effort to get back at Stacy, she had sabotaged the showerhead, thinking that it would merely spark and scare Stacy. She had not expected the explosion, or Stacy's reaction that led to her death.

"You miscalculated," Sara observed.

Hannah's chin came up, and a look of something like defiance crossed her eyes. "I guess I did."

Sofia glanced at Sara, then back at Hannah. "Okay, Hannah, I don't think we have any other questions right now. I have to tell you, though, that Ms. Sidle and Mr. Stokes are going to have to search your bedroom."

"Fine," Hannah said. "Have fun."

Sara frowned at Sofia, who shook her head slightly.

"We'll be in touch," Sofia said, standing up.

Sara stood with her, and followed her into the hall.

"Well, that was interesting," Sofia said.

"What do you think?" Sara asked.

"I still think it was Marlon," Sofia said. "I was with both of them when they confessed. I think that Marlon's 'she was a horrible person who deserved to die' was more convincing than Hannah's 'she tormented me and I wanted to get back at her' rationale."

"I don't know," Sara said slowly. "You can't underestimate the power of a teenager when it comes to tormenting a classmate. And, you certainly can't underestimate the weaker student's reaction. Think of Columbine."

"Yeah, but that was different," Sofia said. "That was years of pent-up anger and aggression unleashed in the most horrible way imaginable. This was a little girl who claims she tried to scare a classmate and wound up accidentally killing her."

"True," Sara said. "And, this is a kid who doesn't do _anything_ accidentally. Did you see how upset she got when I said that she had miscalculated?"

"Yeah, this kid doesn't miscalculate," Sofia agreed. "I just don't think that she could have made the mistake of using too much sodium."

Sara shook her head. "I just don't know what to think at this point. On one hand, I think that Nick's right; she's just too small to have pulled this off. On the other, her story makes a lot of sense."

"Sara, don't think like that," Sofia said. "I know what you're doing, and it's not going to help."

"What do you mean?"

Sofia stepped a bit closer. "Look, we've all been there. We've all been the oddball. The genius. The one who threw off the curve. The one who was teased. If we hadn't been, we never would have made it in forensics. But, none of us killed anyone." She shook her head. "Don't let Hannah's story pull you in. She's lying. I'm sure of it."

Sara nodded slowly, wondering how Sofia had guessed her thoughts so accurately. "Well, Nick and I will check out the house. We'll see what else we can find."

"Good luck," Sofia said.

"Thanks."

* * *

A thorough search of Hannah's bedroom yielded some very interesting results. In addition to the dress Hannah had worn to the spring dance, they found her science fair project on uses of sodium, a box of rubber gloves and a copy of Stephen King's _Carrie_. Sara also observed that Hannah and Marlon shared a bathroom; all the evidence Nick had previously found in the bathroom and attributed to Marlon could have been there as a result of Hannah's crimes.

"I don't know, Sara," Nick said as they drove back to the lab. "I just really don't think Hannah did this."

"Are you saying that because you truly don't believe it, or because you don't want to be wrong?" Sara asked.

Nick frowned. "No, I really don't believe it. It just doesn't make any sense. I know she's smart, but I think that she's too smart for something like this. Besides, like I said before, she's just too small to have pulled it off."

Sara sighed. "I hate this case."

Nick laughed. "Well, there's nothing I can do about that."

"There has to be something that will flip this one way or the other. We just haven't found it yet."

"Which means we just have to keep looking."

* * *

Despite Hodges's suggestion that Nick and Sara flip a coin to determine which sibling had killed Stacy, Nick found another solution.

"We need to run a reconstruction," he said.

Sara frowned. "Okay, _Grissom_, this isn't a traffic accident or gun battle. How exactly do you propose reconstructing something like this?"

"We just need a little girl to help us out," Nick said.

"Hey, guys," Warrick said as he walked into the break room. "How's it going with the kids?"

"Funny you should ask," Nick said. "This marriage to Tina made you an uncle, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Any twelve-year-old nieces in the mix?"

"Yeah," Warrick said slowly.

"Any who'd want to help us with our investigation?"

"What are you getting at, Nick?"

"Nick wants to reconstruct the crime scene," Sara said.

"To an extent," Nick said, softening Sara's words. "I want to take a girl who's about Hannah's size to the high school to see if she could sabotage the showerhead, pull the body across the field … you know, pull this off."

"Okay," Warrick said. "I think that Darcy is about Hannah's size. Let me know when you guys can get us in the school, and I'll see if her mom will let her come along."

"Great," Nick said. "Thanks."

* * *

They were granted access to the school on a Friday afternoon, once all classes and after-school activities had ended. Nick and Sara were joined in the locker room by Warrick and Darcy, who seemed less than enthusiastic about helping them. However, after Warrick, already one of her favorite uncles, and Nick lavished praise upon her, she was quite willing to put in her "child labor," as Warrick teased.

She was unable to reach the showerhead until Nick produced the stool that stood in the accessible shower. Using the stool, she could easily manipulate the showerhead. They followed Stacy's path through the school and down the stairs, pausing at the bottom of the staircase.

"Stacy landed here and bled out from the trauma to her skull," Sara said.

Nick frowned. "Darcy, why don't you put those headphones back on?" he asked, referring to the ear buds Warrick had removed for her upon their arrival.

"Like I didn't hear what you just said," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Warrick smiled slightly.

"Hannah could've done this," Sara said.

"Maybe," Nick agreed. "But, the next part … that was the toughest."

Darcy's eyes widened. "What do I have to do now?"

Warrick grinned. "A little manual labor."

"What does that mean?"

"Come on," Warrick said. "We'll show you."

They had wrapped a dummy that equaled Stacy's body weight in a shower curtain identical to the ones used in the locker room. Feeling slightly bad for Darcy, they started with it outside the school doors.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" she asked.

"Get it over there," Nick said, pointing across the football field to where Stacy's body had been found.

"Are you kidding me?" Darcy asked.

"Nope," Warrick said. "Make it happen."

Darcy glared at him, then tried to pick up the dummy. Unable to do so, she grabbed one end of the shower curtain and started pulling it.

"It's too heavy," she whined about twenty feet into her journey.

"Come on, you're almost there," Warrick said encouragingly. "Building character!"

"It's slow going, but you're doing it," Sara said.

"Yeah, so far," Nick agreed.

Giving up, Darcy dropped the end of the shower curtain.

"Even if she makes it to the grass, you think she could have pulled the body the entire length of the football field?" Nick asked. "There were scratches on the shower curtain; the body was pulled at least part of the way."

"There's no way Hannah pulled it the entire distance," Sara said.

"Not by herself," Nick said.

Sara and Warrick glanced at one another, then back at Nick. He nodded.

"They did it together."

"So, did I help the dead girl?" Darcy asked.

"Yeah, sweetie," Nick said. "You helped her a lot."

She smiled. "Good." She pulled her headphones back on, and was soon bobbing her head to the music.

"Hannah was the brains of the operation," Sara said. "She sabotaged the showerhead."

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "Marlon was the brawn. He moved and buried the body."

"Good job, guys," Warrick said. "Now, you just have to prove it."

* * *

Convinced that Marlon and Hannah were working together, Nick and Sara had to interrogate them again. With evidence that pointed to either one of them, and confessions on both sides, they desperately needed for one sibling to implicate the other. They split them up; Nick talked to Marlon while Sara spoke with Hannah.

Both siblings repeatedly said that they had worked alone, and that the other had nothing to do with Stacy's murder. Hannah grew more and more agitated as Sara suggested that she had been lying.

"Your prank went bad and Stacy ended up dead," Sara said.

"That's what I said," Hannah agreed.

"Marlon helped you bury her," Sara continued.

"No, why won't you believe me?" Hannah exclaimed. "Marlon _wasn't there_."

"Marlon helped you move the body," Sara insisted.

"He didn't!"

"You expect me to believe that a little girl like you lugged a hundred pounds of dead weight the length of a football field _by yourself_?" Sara asked.

"No, of course not! That's why I had to use the cart!"

Time seemed to stand still. "What cart?"

"The electric cart, the one the landscapers were using."

* * *

"She's cast reasonable doubt," Nick said as he and Sara walked to their meeting with Ecklie and the DA. "Even if she didn't do it, she was in on it. But, all the jury is going to see is a little girl in a bloody shirt in front of a picture of an electric cart."

Sara sighed. "I don't know, Nick … I sort of believe her."

"You think she did this?" Nick asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I do," Sara said. "She was the one Stacy tormented, not Marlon. She was the one with the brainpower to even think of putting sodium in a showerhead. She was the one who was smart enough to use a cart to move the body across the football field, when dragging it would seem like the easiest option." She shrugged. "This is all Hannah."

Nick shook his head. "I just can't believe that a twelve-year-old prodigy would do something like this," he insisted.

Sara's phone vibrated, ending their conversation. "It's Sofia. I'm going to get this. I'll join you in a minute."

By the time Sara had joined them, the DA had decided to proceed with the trial against Marlon, then to bring charges against Hannah for conspiracy. Sara, however, brought Sofia's news that pizza had been delivered to the house at the time of the murder. One of the kids had answered the door, but the delivery man could not remember which one.

The pizza delivery was enough to prove that only one of the West children had been involved in Stacy's murder, but not enough to tell them which one. While Nick and Ecklie both agreed that Marlon had been the killer, Sara against stated that it had been Hannah.

"All right," the DA said, rising to his feet. "I can tell you one thing for sure: this is not going to go well."

"I'm sorry," Nick said. "I wish we could have given you a more clear-cut case."

He shook his head. "You can't blame yourselves for the work of two screwed up kids. I'll page you when the jury's in."

* * *

The jury found Marlon not guilty. Sitting in the courtroom, Nick and Sara both felt as though they had been punched by the news. Although she believed Hannah to be the murderer, Sara couldn't help but feel the sense of loss as a case that she had worked on was denied a guilty verdict.

"Okay," the DA said, turning to them. "I'm going to bring charges against Hannah. I don't care that she's small, she's a devious little thing. She deserves to go down for this."

Sara nodded. "I'll talk to her."

Nick frowned at her. "Do you want me to do it?"

"I've been working with her all along," Sara said. "I know her."

"Yeah, Sara, that's why I think you shouldn't do this," Nick said. "I think …"

"You think what?"

"I think you're getting a little too close to her and to this case."

Sara shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous. My perspective is fine."

"Okay," Nick said slowly, "if you're sure."

"I'm sure."

* * *

Hannah seemed almost pleased to hear that she would be going to trial. Sara was completely flabbergasted by the girl. She sat down with Hannah standing in front of her so that she could look her in the eye.

"Hannah," she began, "with your gifts, you could have done anything you wanted. And you picked murder. You can't take that back."

"You're worried how I'm going to turn out," Hannah said, giving her a slight, smug smile.

"Of course I am," Sara said. "I know it seems like a really long time, but, in five years, the Stacys of the world would've been behind you."

Hannah looked at her for a moment. "Let me guess. You were a smart kid in school? Maybe you think we're a little alike?"

Sara smiled. "There aren't many people like you."

"That's what my parents always say, too," Hannah said. "The past four months, all they cared about was the affect of the trial on _me_, not Marlon. It's been that way ever since I was fourteen months old and started spelling words with plastic letters. It's so unfair, and nobody ever sees it."

Sara nodded slightly, impressed that a child so young would have such a developed sense of empathy and right and wrong.

"He doesn't deserve to go to jail," Hannah said. "If I get convicted, what's the worst case scenario? I'll be out in five years, _with_ an undergraduate degree. There's no Son of Sam law in Nevada – that was ruled unconstitutional – so I'm free to write a book about all this."

Sara stared at her in shock.

"The story'll be worth millions. Freaks are always good box office," Hannah added.

"You're not a freak," Sara said.

Hannah smiled. "When's the last time you had to sit down to be eye-level with a murder suspect who was standing up?"

"Hannah, you are smart."

"So I've been told."

"But you are not smart enough to get away with murder."

"I think I am," Hannah said. "A lot of people are smart enough to get away with murder. You probably are, too. But, you have to be really smart to make people think things happened that never did."

"What do you mean, exactly?" Sara asked.

"Please don't worry about me," Hannah said, smiling slightly. "I'm going to be fine." She leaned close to whisper in Sara's ear, "I didn't kill Stacy. Marlon did."

Sara felt all the breath leave her body.

Hannah straightened up and walked way to join her parents and her brother, leaving Sara alone in her chair.

Sara sat stock-still, staring after Hannah. She was shocked. She had never dreamed …

She had been outsmarted by a twelve-year-old.

* * *

Sara had no idea how she got home. She truly didn't remember it. What she did remember was walking into her apartment to the smell of alfredo sauce and the open arms of her newly-returned boyfriend.

"Hi," Grissom said, giving her a welcoming embrace. "I didn't realize that court would take that long."

"How did you know where I was?" Sara asked, clinging to him for a moment.

"I called in for an update, and Catherine told me you and Nick had gone to court to hear a verdict. Was it what you expected?"

"Um … yes and no."

Grissom frowned. "Juries don't normally say that someone _might_ be guilty, Sara."

"I was wrong, Gil," she blurted out. "Really, really wrong."

"What do you mean?"

The entire story came out, from Catherine's summons to the layout room to Hannah's confession. Grissom listened intently, only interrupting her when he needed clarification. He held her hand as she talked, gently rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

"I just … I can't believe it," she said. "Why did I believe her? Why was I willing to believe that a little girl was capable of murder?" Anger flashed in her eyes. "How could she have fooled me like that?"

"You aren't alone," Grissom said. "She fooled the jury, too."

"The _jury_ is a collection of random people who are fulfilling their civic duty," Sara said. "I'm a CSI, Gil! My job is to read evidence and people. And, this time …"

"This time, you got it wrong," he acknowledged. "And, Sara, it's okay. You're allowed to be wrong sometimes. That's why we work together – to stop each other from making mistakes."

"So, you're saying that because Nick didn't buy into her story, he stopped me from making a mistake?"

"As far as the DA is concerned, yes."

"But, what about as far as I'm concerned? How could she have fooled me, but not Nick?"

"Nick didn't spend time with her the same way you did. Nick didn't get to know her. She didn't have the chance to pull him in the same way she did you."

"I suppose you have a point …"

"Sara, listen to me," Grissom said. "You lost perspective. Okay? You lost perspective. And, that's okay. It's happens from time to time. We all have our moments. But, Sara, you need to let this go. You can't spend any more time thinking about Hannah, or dwelling on the way she tricked you. Okay?"

"Okay."

He looked at her closely. "You are an amazing CSI, Sara. Truly. You're one of the best in the field. I don't want you to let this drive you out of the profession."

"I won't."

"Sara, I mean it," he said urgently. "I want you to let this go."

Surprised by the emotion behind his words, she nodded. "I'll let it go, Gil. I promise."

"Good," he said, leaning in to kiss her. "I won't lose you – in _any_ way – over something like this."


	52. Predicting the Future

A/N: This chapter is shorter than the last couple, but I like it. I hope you do, too.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. This chapter was inspired by episode 619, "Spellbound," but no dialogue was taken from it.

I don't own the Psychic Friends Network, either. I've never even called them.

* * *

_Predicting the Future_

"Okay, guys, it looks like we've got an easy night," Catherine said as she walked into the break room, where Sara, Nick, Warrick and Greg were chatting.

"Where's Grissom?" Warrick asked.

"A call came in about twenty minutes ago; he took it," she said. "But, that's the only new case we've got."

"Catherine, can I see you for a minute?" Sofia appeared in the doorway with a file in her hands. "I have a question about our drowning death."

"Yeah, sure," Catherine said, following her out. She paused in the doorway to look back at her team. "Just … wrap some open investigations, okay, guys?"

"Thank goodness," Sara sighed. "I have six open investigations. If I don't close something soon, I'm going to lose my mind!"

"I'll give you a hand," Warrick said. "I just closed my last case yesterday."

"Would you?" Sara asked. "That would be great."

Warrick's phone began to vibrate; he pulled it from his belt. He made a face. "Um, Sara … about me helping you …"

"What?"

"Grissom just paged me to his scene. He wants help with his dead psychic."

"Dead psychic?" Greg asked, perking up. "Grissom's case involves a psychic?"

"So the text message says," Warrick said. "Why?"

"Well," Greg said, "I happen to have experience with the occult."

"Greg, reading novels about vampires does not count as experience with the occult," Nick said with a grin.

Sara and Warrick both laughed.

"No, I'm serious!" Greg said. "My grandmother was psychic, and my family thinks that I've inherited her gifts."

"You can predict the future?" Warrick asked incredulously.

"I've been known to make some eerily correct predictions," Greg said. "Can I take your place, Warrick? I know I'll be able to help Grissom with this case."

"I don't know, Greg," Warrick said uneasily. "Griss paged me … I don't want to disobey an order …"

"You're not," Greg said. "Grissom wants back up and he's still going to get it. I'm sure he only paged you because he knew that you didn't have any open cases. I only have one; it won't be an issue. Sara needs your help more than Grissom does."

"I don't know," Warrick said again.

"Please, Warrick," Greg practically begged. "I'll take your next on-call holiday."

The scales tipped. "Oh, okay," Warrick said. "My next on-call is Memorial Day. Enjoy the mayhem that comes along with all the drunken barbecues."

"Thanks, Warrick!" Greg exclaimed, jumping up.

"Yeah, yeah. Just remember … Memorial Day."

"Sure!"

Greg almost skipped out of the room. Sara and Nick looked at Warrick in disbelief.

"Did that really just happen?" Sara asked.

"I think it did," Nick said. "Warrick, man, Grissom doesn't like it when the wrong person shows up at a scene."

"Yeah, I know," Warrick said. "But, I really could use the holiday off. Tina wants me to go to Tahoe with her family for the weekend, and she wasn't too happy when I said I was on call."

"Uh-oh," Sara said. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Not exactly," Warrick said. "She just gets upset about our hours. She works in an ER, and I work here, so neither one of us has a set schedule." He shrugged. "We just don't see each other that much."

"Have you talked to Grissom?" Nick asked. "Maybe he'd be willing to flex your schedule a little so that it coincides with Tina's better."

"Hey, that's a good idea," Warrick said, brightening. "I'll talk to him about it." He turned to look at Sara. "So, how can I help you?"

Sara smiled. "Would you rather start with a hit and run or a shooting?"

Warrick grimaced. "Man, girl, you weren't kidding when you said you were overwhelmed."

"Come on," she said, standing up. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Sara was extremely glad for Warrick's help. Together, they closed one of her cases and were wrapping up a second when his phone began to vibrate. He picked it up and looked at Sara.

"I've been summoned," he said.

Sara smiled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Grissom wants to see me."

"Is he back?"

"So it would appear."

"Look, Warrick, if it'll get you out of trouble, tell Grissom that I insisted that you stay and help me."

"Nah, he'd never believe that," Warrick said. "When have you ever asked for help on a night like this?"

Sara nodded silently; Warrick had a point.

"With any luck, he won't care," he said. "I'll do my best to be back here to help you soon."

Sara smiled. "Good luck."

With one last smile, Warrick left her alone in the layout room.

Sara returned to finishing her report, but had only been working for a few minutes when Greg joined her.

"Hello," he said cheerfully.

Sara looked up at him with a smile. "Okay, Psychic Friends Network, tell me what I'm thinking."

"You're thinking that Warrick abandoned you, even after I took his case."

"Wrong," Sara said, shaking her head.

Greg grinned and sat down across from her. "How's it going?"

"We wrapped one case," she said. "I have this one nearly done. So, that only leaves me with four open investigations."

"Much more manageable."

"Says you," Sara smiled. "How's your case going?"

"Great," Greg replied. "I have it right where I want it."

"Good for you."

"Hey, Sara, have you ever been to a psychic?"

"Unless you count the moment we just had, no."

"Guess who has?"

"You?"

"_Grissom_."

Sara's head snapped up. "What?"

Greg nodded. "He told me that he's been to a psychic!"

"When? Why? What did he learn?"

Greg laughed. "You honestly think he gave up information like that?"

"Fair point."

"So, seriously, he's never said anything to you about it?"

"No," Sara said. "But, to be fair, it's never come up, either. Shockingly, I don't normally ask people if they believe in things related to the occult."

"Maybe you should start," Greg said, standing up. "You might learn something."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sara said, smirking as she turned back to her work.

"Hey, Sara," Greg said, pausing in the doorway. "You're going to ask Grissom about his psychic experience, right?"

"Maybe," Sara said noncommittally.

"Whatever. We both know you will. Once he tells you everything … will you tell me?"

"Um, that would be a no," Sara said.

"Why not?"

Sara grinned. "You're the psychic. Use your inner eye to figure it out."

She looked back down at the report in front of her, effectively dismissing Greg. With a slight stoop to his shoulders, he made his way out of the layout room.

* * *

"So, I hear you've been holding out on me," Sara teased.

"What are you talking about?" Grissom asked, bringing a plate of quiche to the table.

"Greg tells me you have some firsthand knowledge of the occult," Sara replied, pouring juice in each of their glasses. She shook her head with a teasing smile. "And, here I was, believing you when you said it's impossible to predict more than a few seconds into the future."

Grissom frowned for a moment before understanding dawned. "Oh. That. Yes, I suppose what Greg told you is true."

Sara frowned slightly, her teasing smile slipping from her face. "You don't seem very excited about it."

Grissom shrugged as he sat down. "It was a long time ago, Sara."

Sara slid into her seat and looked at him for a moment. "Okay. We don't have to talk about it."

"It's not that I don't want you to know," Grissom said. "It's just …"

"Listen," Sara said, "if there's one thing I understand, it's the need to keep some things to yourself. You really don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm not offended."

As if to prove that she had moved away from the topic, she took a sip of her juice. Grissom stared at her for a moment before cutting into the quiche to serve them both. Once she had been served, Sara began to eat her breakfast in silence. Grissom took some of the quiche on his fork, but didn't raise it beyond the plate.

"I was a teenager," he said suddenly. "I went to the psychic because she said that she could contact the dead. I wanted to contact my dad."

Sara stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth.

"I was fifteen," he continued. "At the age when I really needed a dad. I was starting to shave, to drive, to want to go out with girls … My mom was incredible, but, I really just wanted …" He trailed off and looked down, as though ashamed of his thoughts, even after so many years. "I felt terrible for thinking that. I thought that she should have been enough for me. That I shouldn't have thought the things that I did."

"Gil, it's perfectly natural to miss your father," Sara said. She shook her head. "You can't feel bad for something like that."

"Oh, but I always did," he said. "I knew how hard my mom worked to make sure that I wasn't missing out on anything because I didn't have my dad. Any time that I wished to have him back, I'd feel terrible. It was as though wishing for my dad made me ungrateful for my mom – as though she wasn't good enough."

Sara opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"I know it was ridiculous," he said. "But, it's hard to convince a teenager that he's wrong, especially about his feelings."

Sara nodded, knowing that to be true.

"It was such a rough time for me," he sighed. "I felt like I had all this pressure on me. I wanted to have perfect grades so I could go to a good college and make my mom proud. I wanted to have a job after school so I could earn enough money for a car. I wanted to help my mom as much as I could. I wanted to …" he trailed off, flushing slightly.

"You wanted to what?"

"I wanted to make friends," he said quietly. "I mean, I had Tommy, who had been my best friend since first grade, but that was it, really. And, Tommy and I weren't exactly the most popular guys in school. So, when you find yourself with a crush on the pretty girl in English class, you really find yourself wishing you had cooler friends, so they could make you seem cooler."

Sara smiled slightly. "Yeah. I know the feeling."

"I didn't feel like I could talk to my mom about it," he continued. "She loved Tommy, and, my entire life, she always preached that you should be yourself. That others' opinions don't matter. So, the idea of telling her that I wanted cooler friends so that Karen would like me was unthinkable."

Sara nodded.

"My only alternative would have been to talk to my dad. But, that wasn't much of an option.

"Then, I saw the ad for Miss Celeste, who said she could speak to the dead. So, I took the money I had been saving from my part-time job and went for a reading after school."

He shook his head, looking ashamed of himself. "I told her that I wanted to contact my dad. That was pretty much all I said before she started talking. She said that he had died when I was little, and that he loved me very much. She said that my mom and I were always there for each other, and that made him happy. She said that he was proud of me."

"But, those are all good things," Sara said. "Why did that upset you?"

"At the time, it didn't," he said. He cleared his throat. "I asked her what I should do about Karen, and she said that my dad wanted me to follow my heart." He shook his head again. "The woman was a fraud, and I willingly gave her all the money I'd been saving.

"The thing is," he continued, "I was so desperate to believe that my dad was speaking to me that I didn't initially see that there was anything but truth in it. I thought that she truly had contacted my dad, and that he had sent me all these messages.

"So, I went home, happy, but still confused. My dad hadn't given me any real advice about Karen. When I got home, my mom was there, panicked because she didn't know where I was. I rarely came home late, and never without telling her where I'd be. She asked me where I'd been, and, for the first time, I didn't want to tell her. The fact that I hesitated sent her panic through the roof; because it was so unlike me to hold back, she just assumed the worst.

"I had to calm her down, so I told her the truth." He smiled slightly. "She was so angry. _So_ angry. The occult isn't something that the Catholic Church readily embraces, so the idea that her son had been to a psychic was horrifying to her."

"Did she punish you?"

"No," he said. "She sat down with me and made me tell her everything. When I was done, she pointed out that the woman hadn't told me anything that I didn't already know. She explained how psychics work by talking quickly and throwing out information that can apply to anyone. She told me that the only reason people really believe in what psychics are saying is that they're desperate for a connection, or to know what will happen to them. Then, she said that not knowing what the future holds is what makes life fun. That figuring it out as you go along is all part of the adventure."

Sara smiled. "She sounds like a great mom."

Grissom nodded with a smile. "Then, she told me, as expected, that I was certainly good enough for Karen, and that I should just ask her to go to a movie one weekend."

"Did you?"

"I waited too long. While I was seeing Miss Celeste for advice, George, one of the other boys in English class, asked her out. By the time we got to school on Monday, they were an established couple."

Sara giggled. "Tenth graders move fast."

"Mm-hm," Grissom hummed, smiling. "But, I definitely learned a lot from the experience. After that, I never felt any need to have anything to do with the occult."

"But, you're quite knowledgeable about it."

"I'm quite knowledgeable about a lot of things," Grissom said. "The more knowledge I have, the more open-minded I can be."

"That's true."

"Predicting the future is impossible," Grissom said. "I believe that all we can do is to realize what we want, and then do our best to make it happen."

Sara cocked her head to the side. "What is it that you want?"

He smiled at her. "I want to be with you, like this."

"Nothing else?"

He shook his head. "What else do I need?"

Sara's beaming smile lit up the room.


	53. Public Declarations

A/N: Just a heads up: I'm leaving for a lengthy vacation tomorrow. I'm taking my laptop along, so I still plan to continue posting new chapters. But, this is a road trip, so I definitely won't post anything until next week. So, this is your weekend update. Enjoy it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are taken from episode 621, "Rashomama."

* * *

_Public Declarations_

"Okay, everyone, we've got a busy night ahead of us," Grissom said as he entered the break room. "Diane Chase was killed at her son's wedding."

"Diane Chase," Nick repeated. "Why do I know that name?"

"She's a criminal defense attorney," Catherine said. "She just represented one of the Fatelli brothers in a trial."

"Oh, right," Nick said. He frowned. "Wasn't he sentenced to life in prison?"

"Yes," Grissom said. "So, the Sheriff is concerned that the family put a hit out on her."

"Wow, organized crime?" Greg said, grinning. "Can I go to the scene?"

"Yes," Grissom said. "You, Nick and Sara are all coming with me. Catherine …"

"Stay here and wait to process," she said. She made a face. "This is what I get for maxing out on overtime."

"I feel your pain," Sara said, giving her a smile.

Catherine smiled back. "At least someone does." She gave Grissom a pointed look.

"Hey, I don't make the rules," Grissom said. "I just force you to play by them. And, Sara and Greg, you two are both close to your limit for the month, so watch it today, okay?"

"We will," Sara promised for both of them.

"Good." He looked at Sara, Nick and Greg. "Well, would the three of you do me the honor of attending a wedding with me?"

"We'd love to," Greg said, jumping up and looping his arm through Grissom's.

Sara and Nick laughed as Grissom gave Greg a death glare. Greg dropped his arm and stepped back.

"So sorry, Griss. I should have realized you'd want to escort the lady."

He shoved Sara forward, causing her to collide with Grissom. He looked at her with a smile and offered his arm.

"Bride's side or groom's side?" he asked.

Sara laughed and took his arm. "I'll take the side that had the lawyer killed, please."

"I don't think the Fatellis were invited to the wedding, Sar," Nick said.

Sara dropped Grissom's arm and turned to frown at Nick. "We don't know for sure that it was the Fatellis, Nick."

"Okay, enough," Grissom said. "No fighting until we get to the scene." He turned to Catherine. "Why did you max out on overtime?"

She laughed. "Oh, no, dear. Tonight, the kids are yours."

Grissom laughed with her. "Come on, guys. Let's go."

They went out to the parking lot, where Grissom, Sara and Greg all climbed into one of the crime lab's SUVs. Nick stood in the parking lot, looking at them. Grissom started the engine and put down his window.

"Nick, I'm driving, not Greg," he said. "Get in the car."

"Hey, Griss, do you mind if I drive my car to the scene?" he asked. "I have an appointment to have it serviced tomorrow, and I'm afraid I won't have time to come back for it if we're there forever."

"We'll definitely be there awhile," Grissom said. "Fine. Just don't let the Under Sheriff find out. He's been upset about the number of CSIs arriving at scenes in their personal vehicles."

"I won't say a word," Nick promised.

"All right, then." Grissom backed out of the parking space. "We'll see you at Cupid's Kiss."

"Cupid's Kiss?" Sara asked. "That's seriously where we're going? To a place called _Cupid's Kiss_?"

"Mm-hm."

Sara shuddered. "Oh, God, we're in wedding hell."

* * *

The scene was massive. The wedding had two hundred guests, as well as an eight-member wedding party. The bride and groom were both horrified by what had happened; Grissom volunteered to talk to them and to those who worked at Cupid's Kiss, telling Greg and Nick to talk to the rest of the guests, getting their statements and DNA samples. Sara was given the task of processing the body and the car that had been dragging it down the road.

David was already there when they arrived, working on the body. He glanced up at them.

"You'd think she'd know better than to wear white on the bride's big day," he said.

Looking at Diane Chase's white dress, Sara smirked.

"What's up with that?" Greg asked.

"You can't wear white to a wedding," Sara explained. "It's an insult – like you're trying to upstage the bride."

"Huh," Greg said. "Good to know." He glanced past her, noticing a pretty woman walking toward the other guests. He cleared his throat. "Well, I'd better start interrogating those witnesses."

Watching him follow the girl at a near-run, Sara had to bite back a laugh. She opened her kit and began snapping photos of the car that Ms. Chase had been tied to by her pantyhose.

* * *

Once she had finished with the body and the car, Sara joined Nick and Greg in their interrogation of witnesses. She was more concerned with getting fingerprints; she wanted to rule out those who had tied the beer cans to the car's bumper. Assuming that that would be the groomsmen's game, she approached one of them.

"Hi, there, hi," she said to the man who was carrying a can of beer, and looked to have already downed several. "I'm Sara Sidle; I'm with the Crime Lab."

"Bryce Gundy, groom's side," he slurred.

"Did you guys decorate the wedding car with those beer cans?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said with a smile.

"Did you drink all the beer first?" Sara continued, trying not to laugh.

"Yup." A grin.

"Awesome. Did you also tie the groom's mom to the bumper?"

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"Good chat," Sara said, reaching into her pocket for her printing materials. "I'm going to need to get your fingerprints so I can compare them to the prints I got off the car."

"Cool," Bryce said, looking very impressed.

"You are aware that someone's died?" Sara asked.

"Nobody's going to miss her expect her son and her cell phone provider," Bryce said.

"What do you mean?" Sara asked.

"She's creepy-close to Adam," he explained, swaying slightly. "Used to call him fifteen times a day."

"Huh," Sara said. "Do you mind just putting your finger right here?"

Bryce looked down, which threw his precarious balance off. He pitched forward, falling into Sara, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as he fell on her, struggling to hold him up. "Okay, Mr. Gundy –"

"I think I love you," he said, swaying back onto his feet.

"Yeah," Sara said, disentangling herself. "Thank you." She gave him a shove that sent him stepping backwards. "You need to sit down."

He stumbled back away from her.

"Have a club soda!" she called after him.

Bryce fell face forward onto the grass among the other groomsmen and several women.

"Sorry about him," another groomsman said as he approached Sara. He introduced himself as Mikey, the best man and brother of the bride.

Sara was still interviewing – and, being hit on by – Mikey when Greg came up behind her.

"Hey, Sara, can we talk?"

"I just need to get the best man's fingerprints," she said, taking Mikey's prints.

"Okay," he said. He leaned closer. "But, is your boyfriend going to be pleased to see you flirting with another man?"

Sara's head snapped up. "What?"

"He's headed this way."

"Sara, Greg, I'm leaving," Grissom said as he approached them. "I need to go back to the morgue with the body." He took his keys from his pocket and gave them to Sara. "I'm trusting you to get the SUV home safely."

Sara laughed. "I'll do my best."

He winked at her. "See you both at the lab."

Grissom walked away and Mikey looked at Sara.

"Who's that?"

"Our boss," she said, looking back down to continue printing him – and, to hide her smile.

"Huh."

Sara glanced over at the other groomsmen. "I'm going to need their prints, too."

"I'll get them over here."

"Thanks."

"Um … do you need Bryce's prints, too?" he asked, indicating the man who was still out cold.

"Yeah," Sara said. "But, I've found that it can be easier to get prints from a motionless body."

Mikey laughed. "I'll get the other guys for you."

"Thanks."

He winked and stepped away.

Sara smiled slightly.

"Flirting," Greg hissed.

"I'm not flirting!"

"Whatever." He gave her a meaningful look and walked away.

Sara made a face at him, then began printing the groomsmen who had lined up in front of her.

* * *

Several hours later, Sara's phone rang. She excused herself from her conversation with the bride's cousins from Chicago to answer it.

"Sara Sidle."

"Sara, where are you?"

"I'm at Cupid's Kiss," she replied. "Right where you left me."

"Dare I ask why?" Grissom asked. "You've been there for eleven hours!"

"Because this is the biggest scene I've worked in awhile," she chuckled. "We're wrapping it up now. What's wrong, Griss?"

"You and Greg are maxed out on overtime," he said. "Get all your evidence, release the scene and get back to the lab. _Now_."

"Can we stop for food?"

"If you must. Just get off the clock."

Sara laughed. "Yes, Drill Sergeant."

"Oh, stop it," Grissom said, his smile carrying over the phone to her. He paused. "I noticed that you're wearing the necklace I brought you from New Mexico."

"Yes," Sara said, reaching up to play with the pendant. "I told you I loved it."

"It looks great on you," Grissom said. "I thought, maybe, now that you're most definitely done for the day, you could come over after shift, and wear that necklace."

"Sure," Sara said, smiling.

"And nothing else."

Sara's face turned a bright shade of red. "Um …"

"Well, you could wear clothes on your way over," he said. "But, once you're through the door, nothing but the necklace."

If possible, Sara's face grew even redder. "Griss …"

"I have such plans for us," he said, his voice lowering. "Would you like me to tell you about them?"

"You do realize that I'm still at the scene, right?" she asked.

He laughed. "Yes, I do. Now you know how it feels."

"Oh, you're evil."

"I know. I'll see you soon, honey."

"Bye," Sara said, snapping her phone closed.

Finding Nick and Greg took a few minutes, which was a good thing. Sara needed the time to regain her composure. By the time she finally did catch up with them, she and Greg were _seriously_ maxed out on overtime.

"Hey, guys, we have to go," she said. "Griss just called and said we need to release the scene and get out of here. Greg and I are done on overtime. We need to be gone, like, twenty minutes ago."

"Okay, let's just throw all our evidence in the truck and sort it out when we get back," Nick said. He glanced at where they had parked. "My car is a lot closer than yours; why don't you just throw it in mine?"

"Fine," Sara said. "Let's get moving."

They rushed around, throwing everything into the back of Nick's SUV. They finally released the scene and went back to the parking area.

"Wanna go out for breakfast?" Greg asked.

"Yeah, I'm starving," Sara said.

"Sure," Nick agreed. "Where are we going?"

"Frank's," Greg said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"All right," Nick said, climbing into his car. "I'll meet you there."

"See you soon," Sara said, following Greg to their car.

"So, when you talked to Grissom, did he yell at you for flirting with the best man?" Greg asked as Sara started the SUV.

She frowned. "I was not flirting with the best man."

"Well, he was definitely flirting with you," Greg said. "_And_, I saw that you were playing right into it." He grinned at her. "You just love to have all the men falling all over you, don't you?"

"That is so not my game."

"Whatever," Greg said, laughing at the blush that was spreading rapidly across her cheeks. "As long as Grissom doesn't care, I suppose it's fine."

"Grissom doesn't have anything to worry about," Sara said firmly.

Greg chuckled. "You know what, Sar? I love you."

She smiled. "I love you, too, Greg."

"Now, then," Greg said, settling back in his seat, "on to the diner."

* * *

Sara and Greg beat Nick to the diner. Frank's was a favorite among all the local law enforcement; they said hello to several cops as they sat down. They got a booth and ordered their usual breakfasts: pancakes for Sara, an omelet with a side of bacon for Greg, and orange juice and coffee for both of them. Their waitress, Carrie, knew them well enough that she didn't really need to ask for their orders; it was more a formality than anything else.

"On your own today?" she asked, setting their plates down in front of them.

"Nick's on his way," Greg said.

She nodded. "Where were you this time?"

"At a wedding," Sara replied, making a face.

She looked at them appraisingly. "You're not dressed for it."

Sara laughed.

"We are when one of the guests is dead," Greg said.

Carrie smiled. "I'll watch for Nick. He'll want coffee, right?"

"Of course."

She nodded. "I'll be back."

She left them alone with their food. Sara took a bite of her pancakes and looked at Greg.

"Why do we always come here?"

"Open twenty-four hours," he replied, taking another bite of his omelet.

"_Everything_ in Vegas is open twenty-four hours," Sara said.

"It's cheap," Greg said.

Sara had no argument for that one.

Nick appeared next to Sara. "Smells like bacon in here," he commented. "Slide over."

Smiling, Sara slid across the booth, taking her plate with her.

"That scene took forever," Nick said. "We were there, what, like, nine hours?"

"Eleven," Sara corrected, remembering Grissom's words.

"A dead lawyer and two hundred witnesses?" Greg said. "It's going to take awhile."

"Come for a wedding, stay for the funeral," Nick observed. He looked around at both of them. "Why do we _always_ eat here?"

"It's tradition," Greg said with a grin, looking at Sara.

"Ah, tradition," Sara said. "Like becoming property exchange between your father and your husband."

"No, that's not what a wedding is," Nick said. "It's a public declaration of love."

Sara smiled at him. She was still amazed that Nick, the Texas cowboy, was the most romantic member of their team.

"I'm with Vince Vaughn on this one," Greg said. "Dozens of single women with access to an open bar and coupling on their mind …" He raised his eyebrows and took a bite of his bacon.

"Weddings are a Rorschach," Carrie, who had overheard at least part of their conversation, said as she reappeared with a coffee cup for Nick. "Everybody sees what they want to see. My first five were good."

Sara giggled as the waitress walked away.

Greg, who could see the television from his seat, drew Nick and Sara's attention to it; they had made the morning news with their investigation. After watching for a moment, they returned to their food. Greg let his eyes wander yet again, this time out the window. They grew to the size of saucers.

"Dude," he said without looking away from the window, "where's your car?"

"Right there …"

Nick's voice died as he and Sara turned to look out the window. His car was gone.

Sara's jaw dropped. "Oh, shit. We are so screwed."

"What are we going to do?" Greg asked. "All our evidence was in that car!"

"That's _my_ car!" Nick exclaimed. "It doesn't belong to the lab!"

Sara drew a deep breath. "Okay. We need to call for help. I'll call Grissom. Greg, call Brass."

"Got it," Greg said, pulling out his phone.

Sara pressed her speed dial for Grissom; it only rang twice before he answered.

"Tell me you're not still at the scene," he said by way of greeting.

"No, we're at Frank's," she said. "We stopped for breakfast after we left the scene."

"Okay," he said. "Just called to say hi?"

"No," Sara said slowly. "Um … Griss, we have a problem."

"What might that be?"

"Um … Nicky's car was just stolen."

"What?" Grissom asked in shock. "Where was it?"

"It was in the parking lot, right outside the window," she said. "We looked away, and when we looked back, it was gone."

"Okay," he said calmly. "Call Brass."

"Greg's doing that now. Um, Griss, there's more."

"More?"

"Yeah. Um … all our evidence, case notes, files and cameras were in Nick's car."

"What?"

"Yeah." Sara waited, listening to his overly controlled breathing. She could almost see him squeezing his eyes closed.

"Why was your evidence in Nick's car?"

"It was closer, and we needed to leave in a hurry," she said quietly.

"Okay," he said. "I'm on my way. I'll bring Brass and Sofia with me."

"Thanks, Griss."

"I'll see you in a minute."

Sara closed her phone and looked at Nick, who was doing his best not to panic.

"Well?"

"He's not thrilled, but he's on his way," she said.

Nick nodded. "I guess it could be worse."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "Somehow."

* * *

Once they had made it back to the lab – Nick having ridden back with Brass and Sofia – Grissom instructed them to wait in the break room.

"I have to talk to Ecklie," he said. "I'll be in to talk to you as soon as I'm done. Don't do _anything_ or go _anywhere_ until you've heard from me."

Murmuring their agreement, they made their way to the break room. Catherine found them there, looking like puppies with their tails between their legs.

"What's wrong with the three of you?" she asked.

"We had a bit of a mishap on our way back from the scene," Greg said.

Frowning, Catherine sat down with them at the table. "What happened?"

"We used my car to transport the evidence instead of a CSI car," Nick said.

Catherine looked at them as though they had lost their minds. "Well, look, guys, I know it's not regulation, but, really, I don't think it's anything to be this upset about."

"Yeah," Sara agreed, "except for the fact that it was stolen while we were at Frank's."

Catherine's eyes widened. "Okay, that is a bit of a problem. Grissom knows, right?"

"Yeah, we called him from the diner," Nick said. "He said he was going to talk to Ecklie, and we should wait here."

Catherine nodded. "So, to make sure that I really, truly understand this, are you telling me that you lost all the evidence in this case when Nick's car was stolen?"

"Yeah," Greg said. "And, as Grissom so helpfully pointed out to the Under Sheriff, the chain of custody has been broken, so even if we recover the evidence, we can't use it … _and_, we had already released the scene, so we officially have nothing."

Catherine's phone rang. She glanced down at the screen. "It's Sofia; I should take this." She stood up and looked at them sympathetically. "We'll pull this together, guys. I know it."

"Yeah," Nick said as she walked out of the room, "I'm sure we will."

Sara wanted to say something optimistic to raise everyone's spirits, but couldn't think of anything that would help. As far as she was concerned, they were in a very, very bad place. She sat between Nick and Greg, wishing that someone would break the silence. They needed to alleviate the tension.

It didn't happen.

Grissom arrived, looking grim. "Internal Affairs Bureau is coming to take our statements," he announced. "They'll want to know what's been lost, so let's not make ourselves look any worse than we already do. Write down _everything_. Evidence collected, interview notes, etc. Every detail. No one leaves until they've given their account of the event."

Grissom looked like he was done with his speech, which was a good thing; Greg's phone began to ring, playing "Feel Like Makin' Love." Grissom frowned first at Greg, who quickly pulled the phone from his pocket and turned it off, then at the others, as though they had somehow been at fault for Greg's ring tone choice. Grissom walked away without another word.

Greg exhaled, looking thoroughly humiliated. Nick and Sara struggled for a moment, then both burst into laughter. Greg stared at them in shock.

"Oh, come on, Greg," Sara said, on the verge of a true fit of laughter. "That was _funny_!"

Sara and Nick's renewed laughter proved to be infectious; Greg began to laugh with them.

The tension had been alleviated.

* * *

Once they finally had themselves under control again, Nick rummaged through the cabinets to find them each a notebook and pen. They sat down at the table in silence, each writing quickly, trying to remember every detail from the scene before it could be forgotten. Greg, in a moment of sheer frustration, broke the silence.

"It was a big scene," he moaned. "I threw _tons_ of stuff into the back of your truck. I figured I'd just sort it out later. Print lifts … swabs … my _camera_ …" He nearly growled the last word. Clearly, the loss of his camera had hit Greg hard.

"Well," Sara said, "maybe if we talk it out, it'll help."

Her coworkers agreed; Sara began with her description of the scene.

"So, there we were at Cupid's Kiss, a nuptial neverland, where the cheese factor was _dangerously_ high and the flowers were _obviously_ fake. Can the love be real when the flowers aren't?"

"Some people have allergies," Greg offered.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Anyway," she continued, "it was a paradise of fake tans and bad dye jobs. The guests were air kissing, acting happy to see each other … as if they weren't planning to go home and spend hours gossiping about everyone there. Then, I walked past Nick, who was interviewing these two bridesmaids, who were already beginning on their bitch fest –"

"You _really_ have a thing about weddings, don't you?" Nick interrupted.

"Hey, I didn't interview them," she said. "It was just my impression."

She continued on, describing her conversations with Bryce and Mikey.

"So, then Mikey asked me if I'd ever thought of getting married, because he thought that Bryce could make an honest woman of me. Of course, Bryce was still out cold – Mikey said my rejection left him heart broken."

"Should I put flirting in the case file?" Nick asked, an amused smile crossing his face.

"I wasn't flirting; I was printing," Sara said, while Greg struggled not to laugh. "He was flirting."

"Oh," Nick said.

Sara unsuccessfully attempted to fight back a smile.

"Told you so," Greg muttered.

"Oh, what's this?" Nick asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"Nothing," Sara said, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

"She's got men falling all over her," Greg sighed. "Such a tragedy for our poor, defenseless Sara."

"She should know better than to flirt with potential suspects," Nick said wisely.

"Okay, enough," Sara said, smiling. "I was just trying to help you guys out by giving my account of the scene, but if you're going to be mean, I'm not talking to you anymore."

"It's not our fault that you have wedding-phobia," Nick said. "Hey, Sar, were you ever left at the altar?"

"_No_, Nick, I was not," Sara said.

Nick shrugged. "It was just a theory."

"DNA samples …" Greg muttered, writing furiously once again.

His work ethic was enough to put Nick and Sara back to work, too. They made their lists in amiable silence, only breaking it occasionally to discuss details that were becoming hazy.

They had finally reached the point of having nearly everything recorded when Nick pulled a napkin from his pocket. He looked at it in utter surprise.

"Did you get a number?" Greg asked, simultaneously shocked and impressed.

"No," Nick said, "no, I didn't get anything. She must have put it in my pocket."

Greg gave him a "yeah, right" look and glanced at Sara. She pursed her lips to keep from grinning as she looked from Greg to Nick. She could hardly wait to see how he talked his way out of this one.

"Mindy …"

"Let me guess," Sara said, unable to keep the teasing smile from her face, "one of your bridesmaids?"

"Yeah," Nick acknowledged. "I let her borrow my jacket; she was freezing."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Man, she figured you out quickly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Mr. Romantic, she was probably just acting cold to put you into Texas gentleman mode."

"Huh?"

Sara sighed. "She was trying to attract you by playing the damsel in distress."

Nick shook his head. "No, Sara, the poor girl was in shock."

"Okay, look, as much as I'm loving this whole 'pick on Nick' thing, what did the bridesmaids say?" Greg asked.

"They were really upset about the toast that Ms. Chase gave," Nick said. "Thought she might have been drunk at the time."

"Well, Henry will be able to tell us that," Sara said. "So? What did she say in her toast?"

"They didn't really go into details."

Catherine entered the room, holding a DVD. "Anyone interested in the wedding DVD?"

"Yeah," they all said as one.

"Courtesy of Frank Rosetti," she said as she crossed to the television, "owner of Cupid's Kiss." She put the DVD in and picked up the remote, stepped over to an open chair. "All right. Where do you want to start?"

"The toast," they said in unison.

Catherine smiled, a bit confused by their enthusiasm, and chose the toast option from the DVD menu. A moment later, Diane was on the screen, giving her toast. She did appear to be intoxicated as her note cards fell from her hand and to the floor. She decided to "wing it," to the delight of the guests.

Sara's immediate thought was that she should have stuck to her script.

Diane began by describing Adam's many achievements in glowing terms, then continued by bashing Jill.

"There's nothing wrong with her," she said, "but, what's _right_ with her? I mean, even her name is boring!" She leaned down and put her hands on either side of Adam's face. "Adam, it's all right to take a lover; you just don't have to end up married to her!"

Adam stood up, attempting to lead his mother away.

"I mean, do you really want to shallow our gene pool like this?" Diane continued.

Adam pulled her away from the head table; Diane turned to thank everyone for coming.

Catherine stopped the DVD. They stared at each other in shock. Sara, whose mouth had dropped open as soon as Diane began her description of "plain, little Jill," struggled to close it.

"Justifiable homicide?" Catherine asked.

Sara smiled.

"Has Grissom seen this?" Greg asked.

"No, I just got it," Catherine said. "This was the first showing."

"Oh, man," Greg said, grinning. "Get him down here! He's got to see this!"

"Greg!" Sara exclaimed. "This isn't supposed to be the entertainment of the day!"

"It pertains to the case," he said. He looked at Nick and continued in an undertone, "And, it's damn funny."

Nick coughed to hide his laughter.

"I'll get him," Catherine volunteered. "I'll leave the DVD in your capable hands."

As soon as she was out of the room, Greg grabbed the remote she had left on the table.

"Let's watch it again!"

"Let's wait for Grissom," Sara said, taking the remote from him.

Grissom walked in a moment later. "Catherine said you needed me?"

"Yeah," Greg said. "We think we've found a suspect."

"Okay," Grissom said.

Greg looked at Sara. "Show him."

"This is Diane Chase's toast," Sara said, pressing play.

Grissom nodded. His expression went from curious to shocked to bewildered. The toast ended and Sara pressed the stop button.

"You talked to the bride," she said. "This seems like motive. Do you think she did it?"

Grissom glanced at her, thinking back to his conversations with the bride and with Frank Rosetti. "When would she have had the time? The girl admitted to hating Diane, and to wishing her dead, but she was running from before the ceremony began until she and Adam got into the convertible. Mr. Rosetti gave me the schedule. The entire day was planned down to the minute, to the point that I questioned when Jill would have had time to go to the bathroom. Mr. Rosetti told me that he sells bridal diapers."

Ringing silence followed this statement, only to be broken by Greg.

"He was kidding about the diapers, right?"

Sara and Nick both snorted with choked laughter.

"The point is, Jill didn't have time to kill her mother-in-law," Grissom said. "You'll have to keep digging."

He left them alone. Nick exhaled.

"Well, that's one down. Who's next?"

* * *

Ten hours later, IAB still had not arrived, they were all very irritable, and no closer to solving their case. They had ruled out Adam (far too attached to his mother), his father (far too drunk to have tied her to a bumper) and the Fatellis (far too gentle a murder for their taste).

Catherine and Brass, however, did provide them with some welcome news: Nick's car had been recovered. While watching the wedding DVD with Archie, Catherine noted that Mikey, as a part of his toast, referenced himself as a grease monkey. A phone call to Brass was all it took to set things in motion. The found Nick's truck in one of the paint bays at Mikey's auto shop.

Nick was working with Sara and Greg on Greg's theory that Diane had received a fatal blow to the head in the bridal suite when his phone rang. He picked it up without looking at the screen.

"Stokes."

"Hey, Nicky, I have good news," Catherine said. "We found your car!"

"You found it? Where was it?" Nick exclaimed.

"Mikey Shoemaker, the bride's brother, had it. Unis are bringing him in for questioning now. But, your car is on its way to the garage."

"I'm on my way," Nick said, closing his phone. He looked at Sara and Greg with a wide smile. "Cath and Brass found my car," he said.

"Who took it?" Greg asked.

"Mikey Shoemaker."

Greg looked at Sara. "Well, that'll teach you to flirt with witnesses."

"I wasn't flirting!" Sara exclaimed.

Nick laughed. "I'm going to go welcome my car home, guys. I'll be back."

"Tell it hi for me!" Sara called as he left the room.

Nick raised his hand in acknowledgement and continued to the garage. He was waiting impatiently when both his car and Brass and Catherine arrived.

Nick's mouth dropped open as he looked his car. Apparently, Mikey had been bored by the tame black paint; it now sported dice, dollar signs, hundred dollar bills and a half-naked woman.

"Hey, pimp!" Brass called. "How do you like your new ride?"

"Hey, look, they fixed it," Catherine said, rubbing his back.

"Oh," Nick said, "oh, that's not funny."

"Well," Catherine said with a grin, "it's a _little_ funny."

"I can't even have it back yet, can I?"

"Not yet," Catherine said. "But, look on the bright side. Your insurance might pay to have it repainted."

Nick scrubbed his hands over his face. "I'm gonna … go help Greg and Sara."

* * *

Greg and Sara were busy working on the recovered evidence. Although it would never be permissible in court, Greg was convinced that they could bank on their new suspects' stupidity. His plan was to convince them that they knew what happened in the hopes that they'd confess.

"Do you think Grissom will go for this?" he asked.

"He might," Sara shrugged. "I just don't know, Greg … I'm not sure it'll work."

"Don't overestimate the intelligence of these women," Greg said. "I'm going to page Grissom. You fill in Nick."

They were waiting in the break room, eating sandwiches and watching the toast yet again, when Grissom joined them.

"You paged?" he asked.

"We think that each of the bridesmaids is responsible for killing her," Greg said. "Not individually, but working in cahoots. Each one played their part."

"Did you know the original role of the bridesmaid," Grissom began, sitting down, "was to act as a human shield against the bride's enemies?"

"Women would dress similar to the bride in an effort to confuse and outsmart evil spirits that might try to overtake her on her wedding day," Sara added, looking straight at Grissom.

"Wow, for somebody that's anti-wedding, you seem to know a lot about it," Nick said.

Sara frowned and looked away from Grissom to face Nick. "I'm not anti-wedding, I'm just anti-stupid," she said haltingly. "You know, people who do things for the sake of tradition with no clue as to why." She finished with another frown for Nick.

"Anyway," Grissom said, frowning at both of them, "let's start at the beginning, shall we?"

Greg presented his theory, along with the idea that they interrogate the bridesmaids with their findings as though they would stand up in court.

"Okay," Grissom said when Greg had finished speaking. "Your theory makes sense, and you have evidence to support it … sort of. Call Brass. Have him bring in the girls."

Greg grinned. "Excellent." He paused. "Can we watch the toast again?"

Grissom shook his head with a smile. Nick pressed play.

* * *

Greg's plan worked. When confronted with everything that they "had," the four bridesmaids confessed to working together to kill Diane Chase. One had drugged her, one had shoved her into a statue, and two had tied her to the bumper of the car. They claimed defending Jill, defending themselves, cleaning up a messy situation …

"The DA will love this one," Brass said. "I hope he shows that toast in court."

Finally, nearly twenty-four hours after Nick's truck had been stolen, IAB arrived to take their statements. They talked to Nick, Sara and Greg first, then to Grissom.

"I think it'll be fine," Grissom said when he walked out his interview. "At worst, the Under Sheriff will insist that you all be docked a day's pay or not go into the field for a week." He grinned. "Once Catherine and Warrick have wracked up a month's worth of overtime in two days, that'll be changed."

"So, we're good?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, it's fine," Grissom said. "Let's just make sure we've all learned something from this experience, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. Now, everyone go home. You all need to get some rest."

Nick and Greg nearly ran out of Grissom's office, both eager to get away from the lab. Sara hung back, smiling at him.

"Don't you need to rest, too?"

"It probably wouldn't hurt."

"Well, since my boss just ordered me home, but I want to see my boyfriend, I guess he'll just have to come to my place."

Grissom smiled. "I'll meet you there."

* * *

Upon arrival at Sara's apartment, she and Grissom both fell into bed. Sleeping for the first time in over a day felt wonderful; it was hours before they woke up. When they did, they spent a lazy afternoon together, sitting on Sara's couch, watching television.

"So," Grissom said, finally bringing up the point he had wanted to discuss for quite some time, "why does Nick think that you're anti-wedding?"

Sara bit her lip. "I may have made some statements that could have been construed as being anti-wedding in nature."

Grissom looked at her closely. "Would this have anything to do with you opposing marriage?"

"I never said I oppose marriage," Sara clarified. "I just think that, in some cases, it's not the best idea. But, Jill and Adam seem happy together … and, now that Diane is out of the way, I think they'll stay that way."

Grissom chuckled. "So, what was it that had you so upset?"

Sara shrugged. "The big wedding, I guess. All that it symbolizes."

"What does it symbolize to you?"

"Why does this feel like an interrogation?" Sara asked.

"Because you're not giving me straight answers. You're making me dig for them."

Sara sighed. "Nick sees weddings as a public declaration of love. Greg sees them as an opportunity to find a girlfriend. I see them as symbolic of the transfer of a girl from her father's house to her husband's."

"But, that wouldn't hold true for you," Grissom said. "You live on your own right now. So, if we got married tomorrow, it would just be a merger of our two lives. No one else would have anything to do with it."

Sara felt a jolt go through her. "Um …"

"Not that I'm saying I want to get married," Grissom hastened to clarify. "I'm just saying that your reasoning is a little off."

"Fair enough," Sara said. "What do you think of weddings?"

"I think that Nick has a good point," Grissom said. "The purpose of a wedding is to publicly declare your love. It's to pledge your life to another person. To swear, before God and witnesses, to work together through all of life's issues, and to always put your love first."

Sara's eyes opened wide. She had never heard Grissom say anything quite like that before.

"But, I think that you're right, too – in a way. People tend to go overboard on the ceremony. The point of it all isn't the wedding; it's the marriage."

Sara sighed and crawled closer to him, snuggling against him. "You're incredible. You know that, right?"

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "So are you."

She popped up to look at him again. "But, Griss, just promise me one thing."

"Anything," he said, giving her a warm smile.

Sara smiled back. "If we ever get married, let's not have your mother give a toast."

Sara was sure she had not heard Grissom laugh that hard in a long time.


	54. Her Best Friends

A/N: Hello from the land of vacation! I'm still away, but, like I said, I think I'll be able to update while I'm here. And, I do plan to keep doing review replies. I promise that I will send responses for all the reviews on the last chapter as soon as I have time – I loved reading your thoughts! But, time is of the essence right now, and I thought you'd probably appreciate a new chapter more than a review reply.

This chapter is an off-shoot of something completely different. I had this whole plan for what I was going to write, then Sara and Greg took over, and, well, this is where things ended up. I hope you like it, and that you aren't too terribly disappointed about the fact that it delays the content of the _next_ chapter.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. The tiniest bit of inspiration is taken from episode 622, "Time of your Death."

I also do not own _American Dreamz_, but I think that it's a hilarious movie.

* * *

_Her Best Friends_

"Are you going to miss me tonight?" Sara asked, giving Grissom a teasing smile.

"Most definitely. But, I'm sure I'll manage to get through it somehow."

"How 'bout if I promise to wait up for you? Will that help?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Where will you wait?"

"Right here, in my apartment. Think you can make it over after work?"

"Maybe," Grissom replied with a teasing smile of his own. "What would make me want to be here?"

"Well," Sara said, "I'll have breakfast waiting for you. And, I'll wear that necklace you brought me from New Mexico, like I promised last week. We never got around to that."

"We were busy," Grissom said. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. "Will you wear it just like I requested? All by itself?"

"Mm," Sara murmured, burying her face in his neck. "You might have to help me get to that point."

"I think I can do that," Grissom said, sliding his hand up her back, under her shirt.

"I think you can, too."

Grissom smiled and put his finger under her chin, tipping it up slightly. "Hey."

Sara looked up to make eye contact. "Hi."

Grissom leaned down and kissed her. "I have to go."

"I know. I'll see you later?"

"If I'm going to work more than a normal shift, I'll call you."

"Okay. Have fun."

He kissed her again. "You, too."

Sara laughed. "Yeah, I'll have a great time. I'm going to clean my bathroom."

"Lucky girl."

She laughed again. "Bye, Griss."

"Bye."

Grissom released her, and, with one last smile, left her apartment. Once he was gone, Sara knew there was no sense putting it off any longer. With a slightly disgruntled sigh, she made her way into the bathroom.

Just as she was pulling her cleaning supplies out of the cupboard under the sink, her phone rang. Already feeling thankful to whoever was calling her, Sara launched herself out of the bathroom and to the bedroom, where her phone was charging.

"Sidle," she said a bit breathlessly as she answered the phone.

"Hey, Sara," Greg said. "Um, did I catch you at a bad time? You sound a little out of breath."

"You caught me at a _great_ time," Sara said. "I was on the verge of cleaning my bathroom. I ran in here to get the phone."

Greg laughed. "Well, I'm glad I could save you from the horrors of cleaning. Listen, you're off tonight, right?"

"Yup."

"Me, too. Wanna go see a movie?"

"Yeah, I'd love to," Sara said enthusiastically. "What do you have in mind?"

"Let's just go to the theater and see what's playing when we get there."

"Are you serious? How can you do that? You have to see what's playing in advance so you know when to get to the theater!"

"Stop being such an OCD planner," Greg said, laughing. "I don't want us to have to park two cars. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes, okay?"

"Oo, you're picking me up? Is this a date?" Sara teased.

"If you want it to be, sweetheart."

Sara laughed. "I'd love to, but I think my big, burly boyfriend would beat you up."

Greg burst into laughter. "Yeah. I'll be waiting for that one."

Sara made a face, even though he couldn't see it. "Whatever, Greg. I'll see you in twenty minutes."

"Bye, Sar."

They hung up, and Sara looked down at the sweats she was wearing to clean. Smiling, she hurried to change her clothes. Twenty minutes was not a long time.

* * *

By the time Greg arrived, Sara was dressed in her favorite jeans, a black t-shirt, the necklace Grissom had brought her from New Mexico, and flip-flops. Greg grinned at her.

"Aw, Sar, you didn't have to dress up for me!"

"Watch it, Greggo, or I'll put my cleaning clothes back on. Are you ready?"

He shrugged. "How could I not be? I'm here, aren't I?"

Grinning, Sara grabbed her purse. "Let's go."

They chatted about work on the way to the theater, speculating about the cases they were missing. Greg was convinced that they had missed the beginning of a serial case; Sara suggested that there could have been a massive traffic accident.

They reached their destination, Greg's favorite cinema. It was a favorite among the locals, but its proximity to the Strip meant that quite a few tourists frequented it, as well. It was exceptionally busy when they arrived. After a considerable amount of searching, Greg found a parking space.

"I can see why you didn't want to worry about both our cars," Sara said as they walked in. "I've never been to this cinema."

"Never? Where does that boyfriend take you?"

"Places a little more off-Strip," Sara replied.

"I guess that makes sense," Greg said, holding the door for her.

They stopped inside, both consulting their watches and the list of show times. Greg's eyes lit up.

"Can we see _American Dreamz_? It starts in ten minutes."

"Sure," Sara agreed. "I just saw a commercial for it yesterday; it looks funny."

"I've been meaning to see it since it came out last week, but this is the first night off I've had." Greg grinned. "I can't wait."

"Well, then, let's go!"

After buying their tickets and the popcorn that Greg couldn't live without, they made their way into the theater. They were early enough that plenty of good seats were still available. Sara looked at Greg.

"You've been here before, so you get to pick our seats. I'm sure you have some wisdom that I don't."

Greg grinned and let her to a row in the middle of the theater. "This will do nicely."

Sara smiled and followed him to the center of the row. "Lovely."

They settled down into their seats and Greg began to munch on his popcorn. He glanced at Sara, who was reading the movie facts that were displayed on the screen.

"Hey, Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming with me tonight."

Sara smiled a bemused smile. "Why wouldn't I?"

Greg sighed. "Look, the truth is, I was supposed to have a date tonight, with this gorgeous girl named Clarissa, but she called and cancelled at the last possible moment, without giving much hope of rescheduling. I couldn't stand the thought of staying in and feeling sorry for myself, so I called you, hoping that you'd want to go out."

Sara took his hand and squeezed it. "I don't know who this Clarissa girl is, but, she's an idiot if she refused to go out with you." She smiled. "Want me to beat her up for you?"

Greg laughed. "Good plan. The only problem is, I'd probably end up investigating an assault, the vic would turn out to be Clarissa, and I'd have to follow the evidence back to you."

"Oh, Greggie," Sara smiled, "I'm a CSI! I know better than to leave evidence."

Greg grinned. "You're the best, Sar."

"So are you."

He smiled again. "And, really, I feel like I did win tonight."

"Oh, really?"

"Mm-hm," he smiled. "I get to go to the movies instead of the symphony, _and_, I'm out with a beautiful girl."

Sara smiled and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

The lights dimmed and the previews began to roll. Greg smiled at Sara in the darkness.

"Thank you, too."

* * *

Sara and Greg were still chuckling as the closing credits began. They turned to each other with grins as the lights came back on.

"That was funny," Sara said.

"That was _hysterical_," Greg corrected as they walked out of the theater. "Thanks for coming with me, Sara."

"Greg, if you thank me one more time, I will never go out with you again," Sara threatened. "Remember, my other option for tonight was scrubbing a toilet. I think that you're helping me out as much as I'm helping you."

Greg grinned as they reached the car. "Wanna go for coffee?"

"Sure." She gave him a teasing smile. "Are we going to Frank's? They are open twenty-four hours."

"And, it's not that far away," Greg replied. "That's it. We're going to Frank's."

"Oh, wait, Greg, that was a joke!"

"Shouldn't have made it," he said, taking a left out of the parking lot.

Sara smiled and shook her head.

They reached the diner and found an open table. After ordering their coffee and pie – Greg insisted that they needed some sugary sustenance – they started discussing the movie.

"I thought Dennis Quaid was awesome," Sara said. "He was hilarious!"

"No way," Greg said as their food was delivered. "I mean, he was great, but Willem DaFoe was unbelievable!"

"Oh, he was good," Sara agreed.

The waitress, a new girl who they didn't know yet, smiled at them. "Are you talking about _American Dreamz_?"

"You've seen it?" Greg asked eagerly.

"Yeah, I went last night with my sister. We laughed the whole way through."

"It's so funny," Greg agreed. "A perfect satire."

"What was your favorite part?" the waitress asked.

"I loved the beginning sequence," Greg acknowledged. "When Omar started singing those show tunes in that tent –"

"Oh, I loved the part!" the waitress agreed.

Sara cleared her throat. "My brother and I are having a difference of opinion over the best actor in the movie. Your thoughts?"

Greg shot her a confused look, but the waitress gave her a genuine smile. "I loved Willem DaFoe."

"Ha," Greg said. He gave Sara a triumphant grin. "Told you so."

Sara made a face. "Whatever."

The girl gave them an apologetic smile. "I should see to my other tables."

"Right," Greg said. "Hey, what's your name again?"

"Emma."

"Emma. I'm Greg, and this is Sara."

She smiled. "Are you two regulars?"

"Yeah," Sara said. "We're usually part of a larger group, though."

"Great," Emma smiled, glancing briefly at Sara before turning her smiled back to Greg. "I'll look forward to seeing you again."

"Hey, we're still here now," Greg said. "If you have any other thoughts about the movie, come back over here. We'll be talking about it for awhile."

She smiled. "I just might."

She disappeared, and Greg looked at Sara. "Brother? Since when are we related, Miss Only Child?"

"Since I wanted to make sure that Emma knew that I wasn't your girlfriend," Sara explained. "Look, she was about two steps away from outright hitting on you. I knew she wouldn't go that far with me here; she probably just assumed that I'm your girlfriend."

"But, you're not."

"Yes, dear, but it's two thirty in the morning, and we're having pie together. Explain to me how this _doesn't_ look like a date."

Greg grinned. "I know I've already said it, but, truly, Sara, you're the best."

"Yeah, well, I can only get you so far," she said. "You have to get her number all on your own."

"I think I can handle that."

Sara laughed. "Yes, Casanova, I'm sure you can."

Greg took a bite of his pie and smiled at her. "You know, you're very lucky."

"Because I'm the girl and I don't have to get guys' numbers?"

"Because you have a boyfriend and you don't have to get guys' numbers," Greg said. He smiled a bit wistfully. "I mean, it was strange as anything to think of you dating Grissom at first, but once I got used to the idea … it made sense. It _does_ make sense. You guys are really good for each other. I just hope that you both realize how lucky you are."

"We do," Sara said quietly. "I think we're very lucky, too."

Emma returned with their check in her hand. "Will there be anything else tonight?"

Greg glanced at Sara, who shook her head. "I think we're good."

"Okay, then," she said, putting the check down so close to Greg's plate that it practically ended up in the whipped cream he had wiped off his cherry pie. "You should pay for your sister's pie. It was awfully nice of her to go to the movies with you."

"Yeah, it was," Sara smiled. "He's just lucky my boyfriend had to work tonight, so I was free."

"He keeps her pretty busy," Greg acknowledged. "So, we'll see you again?"

"Yeah," Emma said, her cheeks flushing. "Definitely."

"Great."

"Thanks for coming in," she said.

With one last smile, Emma disappeared.

Sara pounced, grabbing the check before Greg could even look at it. She grinned.

"I knew it! She wrote her number on it!"

"Seriously?" Greg snatched the paper from her hands. "Oh, she did! And, she wrote me a note. _Greg – call if you want to get together somewhere other than Frank's!_"

Sara grinned. "Now, as I am partially responsible for bringing you two together, I feel I deserve something …"

Greg laughed. "No worries. We'll name our first child after you."

"Well," Sara laughed, "it's the least you can do."

* * *

Grissom arrived at Sara's apartment shortly after the end of his shift. He opened the door and immediately felt his senses being pelted by a variety of stimulants. Sight, sound, smell … Sunlight poured through Sara's east-facing windows, illuminating her as she danced around the kitchen, singing along with the radio as she flipped the pancakes she was making.

"Hi!" she said, waving him over.

"Hi," he replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his face in the hair that hung down the back of her neck. "Making pancakes?"

"Yes," Sara replied. "I have a fruit salad for us, too. But, if you want sausage or bacon, you'd better start frying."

Grissom chuckled against her. "No, thanks. I'm fine with what you've made."

"Good." She slid the finished pancakes onto a tray. "How was work?"

"We worked a homicide," he said. "We'll have to continue working on it tonight. I'm going to give you and Greg the vic's rental car. It's a Ferrari."

"Greg will love that," Sara said, carrying the pancakes to the already-set table.

Grissom grabbed the bowl of fruit salad from the counter as he followed her to the table. "What did you do with your evening?"

"Greg and I went to the movies."

"What did you see?"

"_American Dreamz_."

"How was it?" Grissom asked as they started to eat.

Sara grinned. "Funny. But, somehow, I don't see it as your style."

"We'll rent it when it's out on DVD. No sense in paying ten dollars to see something I may hate."

Sara laughed. "That's my frugal man."

Grissom smiled and winked at her. "So, did you do anything else?"

"Yeah, we went to Frank's for coffee and pie." She grinned. "Greg got the waitress's phone number."

Grissom's eyes widened. "Which one?"

"New girl. Her name is Emma."

Grissom smiled. "Do you miss that?"

"Miss what?" Sara asked blankly.

"Going out, getting numbers …"

Sara laughed. "I didn't do much of that before I met you. After … well, I did even less. And, now, I'm just relieved that I don't have to worry about it."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "Me, too." He let his eyes travel up and down her body. "You know, I think you broke your promise."

"What promise?"

"You were supposed to wear your necklace tonight."

Sara fished it out from under her shirt. "I'm wearing it. It must have slid under my shirt while I was cooking."

Grissom's smile widened. "The problem, then, is that you're wearing a shirt at all."

Sara grinned. "Well, your end of the deal was to help me with things like that."

Grissom glanced at their half-full plates. "Are you still hungry?"

"Nope."

"Good." He stood up and pulled her to her feet, pulling her shirt over her head.

"Oo, you move fast," Sara teased.

"You have no idea," he said, kissing her soundly. "Come on. I'm going to take you to bed."

Sara laughed and ran down the hall to her bedroom with Grissom following on her heels.


	55. Realms of Fantasy

A/N: On time update? Check. Cliffhanger ending? Check.

Please don't hate me too much.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you like this chapter!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are taken from episode 622, "Time of Your Death."

* * *

_Realms of Fantasy_

"So? Did you call her?"

"Call who?" Greg asked.

Sara rolled her eyes, thankful for the red light ahead of her. "Emma," she said, turning to look at him as she stopped the car. "Remember her? Waitress from last night who kept hitting on you?"

Greg's cheeks turned slightly pink. "She wasn't hitting on me. I'm sure she'd never do that in front of my sister."

Sara laughed. "Stop stalling. Did you call her or not?"

"I may have given her a call before work today …"

Sara's face lit up with a grin. "And? How did it go?"

"Considering the fact that we're going out tomorrow, I'd say pretty well."

"Greg! That's fantastic!" Sara exclaimed, accelerating as the light turned green. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Oh, I don't know. Could it have been because we had to get our assignment, then we had to leave the lab to complete said assignment?"

"You are such a pain in my ass," Sara said, turning into the Palermo's parking lot.

"But, you love me."

She smiled. "I have no idea why."

"My good looks? My boyish charm?"

"Your massive ego? Look, Don Juan, just because Emma likes you doesn't mean _all_ the girls do."

Greg chuckled. "And, here I was, thinking I could win you over."

Sara shook her head and climbed out of their SUV. "Come on. We have a date with a valet."

The case that Grissom had been working the night before was still unsolved. They had identified their victim as Jeff Powell, who had been visiting Vegas using his corporate card. He had been found dead on the hotel's loading docks; Doc Robbins had determined the cause of death to be blunt force trauma to the neck. Nick and Catherine's search of his room taught them that he was in town on vacation, that he liked fast cars, that he had spent much of his evening in the company of a blond woman, and that he had no cash. Nick suggested that they were looking at a trick roll, but they had no proof. In reality, they had very little.

Sara and Greg's job was to find out any and all information related to his car. They made their way to the Palermo's parking garage, where they were greeted by the manager.

"Hello," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm Sara Sidle, and this is Greg Sanders," Sara said. "We're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Ah," he said with dawning understanding. "You're here about the death of that guy they found out on the loading docks, aren't you?"

"That's right. We were wondering if we could talk to the valet who handled his car?"

The manager consulted a log. "Lenny was on last night, and he's here now. Start with him. If he didn't deal with that car, I'll start calling the other guys."

"Thanks," Sara said, walking toward Lenny.

"Helpful, wasn't he?" Greg said.

"Hm," Sara said. "The ones who are that helpful freak me out more than the ones who refuse to talk to us."

"You sound like Brass," Greg said with a grin.

"Brass knows what he's talking about."

They reached the valet, who turned to give them a smile.

"Can I bring a car around for you two?" he asked.

"Um, no," Sara said. "I'm Sara Sidle; this is Greg Sanders. We're with the Crime Lab, and we're investigating a death in the hotel."

"Oh, right," he said with dawning understanding. "They said a body was found on the loading dock. Is that what you're here about?"

"Yes," Greg said. "Your manager said you worked last night?"

"Yes, I did."

"Great." Greg produced a picture of Jeff Powell in the company of the mystery blond woman that Archie had taken from the hotel surveillance footage. "This couple look familiar?"

Lenny studied the picture for a moment. "Sweet red Ferrari," he said with a smile. "F-360 Spyder."

"When did you see them?" Greg asked.

"Last night. I brought the car around when they left. Uh … around 8:15. They were gone a couple of hours. The car … was amazing."

"Did they happen to tell you where they were going?" Sara asked.

"No."

"Do you know what time they got back to the hotel?" she continued.

"Um … a little after ten. The guy gave me a Benjamin. I kept an eye on that baby. I didn't want any of these maniacs putting their paws on it."

"What about the girl? You ever see her before?" Sara asked.

"I don't think so."

"She strike you as a working girl?" Sara asked, testing out Nick's trick roll theory.

"I'll say this: if she was hooking, then she was top shelf, just like that car. I felt kind of like that garage guy in _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_. You know, he likes the car so much that he takes it out for a spin for, like, the whole day." His grin faded into concern. "Not that I'd ever do that," he added quickly.

"Of course not," Sara said with a shake of her head.

The concern deepened. "Whoa, look, I had nothing to do with the damage on that car. I mean, it was pristine before they took it out."

"They were in an accident?" Greg asked. "How bad?"

Lenny looked upset. "Look, any scratch on that beauty is a tragedy, and this was, like, a _dent_. You know what? They looked like they didn't even care." He shook his head. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Um, thanks," Sara said.

"Lenny," he provided. "Lenny Andretti." A grin. "No relation."

Greg grinned back. "Thank a lot, Lenny. You've been very helpful."

"You need anything else, let me know."

Lenny got back to work, and Greg and Sara walked back to their car.

"You know what this means, right?" Sara asked.

Greg nodded. "DMV search. We need a red Ferrari with a dent."

* * *

While Greg and Sara continued their work with the car, Catherine and Brass managed to identify the woman who had spent the evening with Jeff. Her name was Heidi Wolf. A Vegas local, she was a professional gambler who had met up with Jeff in the Palermo bar. She was willing to admit to shopping with him, playing pool with him and sleeping with him, but not to robbing or killing him. Brass's line of questions ended with her request for a lawyer.

Greg, with some help from Sofia and Hodges, determined that the Ferrari was a rental, and that it had been in an accident with a Corvette. Further digging proved that the Corvette, too, was a rental. It had been rented by Randy Bolan, another Vegas local.

Sofia talked to Mr. Bolan, who, like Ms. Wolf, was willing to admit to minimal contact with Jeff. He said that he had played pool with him and Heidi, and that he had, stupidly, raced them down the road, "rubbing" the Ferrari with his rented Corvette. He swore that he knew nothing about Jeff's death, and demanded a lawyer, ending his interview.

Because the rental agencies claimed that their records were private, Sara had to get warrants for further information. Once the warrants came through and the rental agreements were in her hands, she was a bit surprised. Grissom, her usual go-to man with unusual findings, was at PD with Brass, questioning Jeff Powell's boss. Sara decided that, rather than wait for him, she'd go talk to Catherine.

Catherine was in her office, working at her computer. Sara knocked lightly on the door as she entered.

"Hey."

Catherine looked up. "Hey."

"Warrants came through on the rental agreements," Sara said, sitting down.

Catherine smiled. "Jeff Powell went a little crazy with his corporate card and rented the Ferrari himself?"

"No," Sara said with a smile. "Heidi Wolf rented it."

Catherine looked up in surprise.

"The reservation was held in her name by a company called Caprice Unlimited. This is where it gets interesting: Caprice Unlimited also rented Randy Bolan's Corvette."

"What kind of business is it?" Catherine asked.

"All I know so far is that they're unlisted."

Catherine smiled at the challenge before them. "Well, nothing's _entirely_ unlisted these days."

She spent a moment searching the internet, and came up with the company's website, which included a phone number. She smiled.

"'Caprice Unlimited: Anything is Possible,'" she read. She looked up at Sara. "Sounds like a sex business."

Sara smiled as Catherine reached for the phone. "What are you going to say?"

"Um… something other than, a guy is dead and it looks like you're involved." Catherine listened as the number directed her immediately to the company's voicemail. "Not taking calls," she told Sara as she hung up.

Sara cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "Let's see if they're making any."

"Need help?" Catherine asked.

Sara shook her head as she got up from her chair. "I've got this."

"Good luck."

Sara grinned. "Thanks."

* * *

Less than an hour later, Sara was nearly done with her task. Using their outgoing call signals, she was able to pinpoint the location of the business. A few phone calls to PD and building managers later, she was ready to roll.

"Hey," Grissom said, walking in as Sara hung up the phone.

"Hi," she smiled. "How did it go with the movie producer?"

Grissom smiled. "I should have sent Greg. He tells me he's a big Mick Sheridan fan."

"So I've heard."

"Did he tell you about dressing up in aluminum foil to reenact scenes from his movies?"

"No," Sara said, grinning madly. "But, now I have ammo against him."

Grissom laughed. "So, what are you up to?"

"I just found the location of Caprice Unlimited, the business that rented the two cars involved in Jeff's evening," Sara said. "I was just going to go check it out. Wanna come on a field trip with me?"

"Sure," Grissom said. "Sounds like fun."

"Great," Sara said, her face lighting up. "We have to leave now. I just talked to PD; some uniforms are going to meet us there."

"Well, then, let's go," Grissom said, ushering her out of the room. "We don't want to keep them waiting."

* * *

"Did you ever dress up and play superhero when you were little?"

Sara turned to look at Grissom. "What?"

He kept his eyes trained on the road, following the cop car in front of them to site of Caprice Unlimited. "Greg said that he and his friends would use aluminum foil to dress up and reenact scenes from Mick Sheridan's movies."

"Yeah, you mentioned that before," Sara said. "Look, it's just one more odd thing that makes Greg who he is. Consider it the forerunner to his latex fetish."

Grissom grinned. "Good point."

"Why are you stuck on this?" Sara asked. "Who did you dress up as when you were little?"

"No one."

"Oh, come on," Sara said with a teasing smile. "What about Halloween? What were you?"

"One year, I was Spiderman."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Sara asked, her smile widening. "What else?"

Grissom shrugged. "I didn't like to act like a superhero when I was little."

"You never tried to fly or anything?"

Grissom dared to look away from the road to glance at her in disbelief. "You tried to fly?"

"Yeah, once," Sara said. "I jumped off the kitchen counter." She shook her head. "That is one mistake you only make once."

"How old were you?"

"Oh, three or four. Old enough to remember, but young enough not to be in massive trouble for it."

"You hurt yourself?"

"Oh, yeah. I caught the side of my head on the edge of the oven door."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. My mom took me to the hospital; she was convinced I had a concussion and needed brain surgery or something. In the end, I needed three stitches."

"Were you scared?"

"No," Sara sighed. "I had certainly seen enough of hospitals at that point. That was the first time I was there for _me_, though. It really got me into the idea of being a doctor. I thought it was amazing how he stitched my head back together."

"You wanted to be a doctor?"

"For years and years," Sara acknowledged. "I thought that if I were a doctor, I could take care of my mom when my dad hit her, and she wouldn't have to go to the hospital."

They reached a red light, and Grissom reached across to take her hand. "Sara …"

She shook her head. "It's over now." She cleared her throat. "So, after I turned nine, I was usually a doctor for Halloween. Before that, I was plenty of different things."

"I was a doctor once, I think."

"You think?"

Grissom shrugged. "I never liked pretending to be someone I'm not."

"No," Sara said slowly, "no, you wouldn't. I can see that."

They reached their destination. Grissom parked the car, and they walked in through the open gates. They looked around in surprise at the Asian décor as they walked down the hall that led to a courtyard.

"Triangulation's consistent," Sara said. "Caprice Unlimited made the calls from this address. According to the building manager, Caprice is only renting it for two days."

They reached the end of the hall and stepped out into the courtyard, which had the appearance of a Japanese garden. With barely a glance at each other, they began walking through the garden. Grissom walked ahead of Sara, taking in the sights, and wondering what kind of business Caprice was.

Voices attracted his attention; he stopped and looked to his right. Sara stepped up beside him, watching as he craned his neck to see beyond a screen. She looked, too, and saw a man's hand as he held a necklace up against two different girls' necks, running his other hand over the exposed skin of their chests. Grissom looked at Sara in confusion; she met his eyes, but knew that she had no more answers than he did.

The girls stepped out from behind the screen, now fully covered, followed by a man dressed in black. He looked surprised to see Grissom and Sara.

"I'm sorry," he said, "this is a private residence."

"My name is Gil Grissom; this is Sara Sidle," Grissom explained. Sara waved when introduced. "We're with the Crime Lab."

"Anthony Caprice," he said. He held his hands out. "There's no crime here. That was a job interview. Over a hundred fifty thousand dollars has been spent on this event. It's for several golf club salesmen in from Kansas City. Japanese formality with mesh very nicely with their inherent Midwestern restraint."

Sara smiled at that. Mary, her Chicago-native best friend, was one of the least restrained people she knew.

"Their idealized woman, submissive, but in control, becomes the geisha," Anthony concluded.

Grissom paused, glancing toward Sara. "I get it," he said at last. "You're one of those companies that stages fantasies, right? Everything appears real, but it's all been worked out in advance?"

Sara glanced at Grissom, pursing her lips to hide a smile. Was there _anything_ he hadn't heard of and researched?

"These scenarios take _weeks_ to craft," Anthony said. "I learn _everything_ about my client's wants and his desires, all without him even knowing it."

Grissom pursed his own lips and glanced at Sara.

"Secret longings … they have a kind of … electricity. They're often much more visible than we would want them to be."

Sara frowned, glancing ever so slightly at Grissom, who was looking at her again.

"And, uh, Jeff Powell's evening?" Grissom asked. "The girl, the car, the billiards? All paid for by Mick Sheridan?"

Anthony shrugged slightly and shook his head. "Never heard of him."

"Who did pay?" Sara asked, breaking the silence she had held since walking into the courtyard.

"A benefactor," Anthony replied. "Wishes to remain anonymous." He began to tap at his PDA.

"Someone rich who likes to manipulate people, probably?" Grissom offered.

"Everybody likes to be in control," Anthony said as a document began to print. "You don't have to be rich to want that."

"If you're so law abiding," Sara said as they turned to watch Anthony take the document from the printer, "why did Heidi Wolf and Randy Bolan lie to the police about what happened? Did you tell them to do that?"

"All my employees have a very strict nondisclosure agreement that they have to sign," Anthony admitted. "Although, I'd never expect them to lie to the police. Maybe, you just asked them the wrong questions." He handed Sara the paper he had printed. "Here's a copy of Mr. Powell's scenario. Every event that they talked about was meticulously planned in advance, and timed down to the minute."

"And, his murder?" Grissom asked.

"Tragic," Anthony said, shaking his head. "But, it's not in my script." He gave them a parting smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a hot tub to calibrate."

Sara and Grissom glanced at each other.

"Oh!" Anthony said, turning back to them.

Sara and Grissom immediately turned to face him.

He smiled slightly. "And, may all _your_ dreams come true."

They stared after him for a moment. Sara finally looked back at Grissom, frowning slightly.

"Let's go," she said.

"Yeah," Grissom agreed, stepping back to let her precede him out of the courtyard, down the hall, and out of the building.

They didn't speak until they were safely in their SUV. Grissom put the key in the ignition, and Sara exhaled.

"Griss … do you think he …?"

Grissom sighed. "I don't know. It seemed like he did, didn't it?"

"He makes a living observing people," Sara said. "So, if he noticed something, it would just be because he's so in-tune to that sort of thing, right?"

"Yeah, Sar, but, all our coworkers are trained observers, too."

She shook her head. "No. Aside from Greg, who's just closer to me than the others, they don't know, and neither did he."

"I don't know, Sara," Grissom said again. He smiled slightly. "I'll admit, I love the idea of a secret romance. I love that we're keeping this to ourselves, and that no one else knows. But, to be honest, if someone else can see how I feel about you … is that such a bad thing?"

Sara smiled. "I guess not."

"So … let's not worry about it, okay?"

She nodded and smiled again. "Okay."

Grissom grabbed her hand, squeezing it for a moment. "Ready to go back to work?"

She nodded again. "Let's go."

* * *

Once they reached the lab, Grissom paged Catherine and Nick to the layout room. By the time they arrived, he and Sara were laying out still shots Archie had pulled from the video surveillance.

"What's up?" Nick asked.

"Did you find anything at Caprice?" Catherine asked. She grinned. "Was I right? It is a sex business?"

"No," Sara said with a smile. "They stage fantasies."

"Fantasies?" Nick asked with a frown.

"Mr. Caprice studies his subjects for weeks, learning as much about them as he can," Grissom explained. "Then, on the appointed evening, he stages an elaborate fantasy that caters to their every unspoken desire."

"Sounds a little strange," Nick said.

"Oh, it is," Sara agreed. "Creepy, almost. It was like he could see straight through us."

She realized too late that she had used the first person plural rather than the singular "me," but neither Catherine nor Nick reacted to her choice of words.

"So, Jeff Powell spent his evening living out his fantasy," Catherine said. "Was dying part of it?"

"No," Grissom said. "We have the script; murder isn't part of it."

"Fair enough. Did he buy this for himself ...?"

"According to Mr. Caprice, it was a gift from an anonymous benefactor," Sara said.

"A Mr. Sheridan?" Nick offered.

"That's my best guess," Sara agreed.

"Okay," Grissom said. "What we need to do is to go through the script and match it up with what we know about Jeff's evening."

"Right," Catherine said with a nod.

Sara held the copy of the script that Mr. Caprice had given them. "The script for Jeff's fantasy begins with Heidi and Randy renting the cars at six PM. Then, it says Randy drives the Corvette to the Cue-T and waits."

"And, Heidi takes the Ferrari," Catherine continued. "She finds Jeff at the Palermo bar."

Sara picked up the story again. "Her instructs were, 'Act upset. Make up story about abusive, high roller boyfriend. Allow Jeff to offer comfort.'"

"Any guy would help a beautiful woman in distress," Nick said. He looked at Grissom to support his statement. "Right?"

Grissom gave a slight shrug. "Some guys are intimidated by beauty, or fear rejection."

Sara frowned and forced herself to look away from Grissom, back down at the photos on the table.

"Evidently, Caprice knew Jeff well enough to know he'd want to help her," Grissom continued.

Nick nodded his agreement.

Sara, fearing a continuation of the off-shoot conversation, immediately returned them to the script. "Heidi's next instructions were, 'Repay subject's kindness by buying drink.'"

"Which she then 'accidentally' spills on his clothes," Catherine said. "She insists on buying him a new outfit, one he couldn't afford on his own."

"Everything was scripted down to the minute," Sara said, unable to keep a hint of awe from her voice. "Clothes, the Cue-T, the car …"

"Sheridan told Caprice that Jeff had been shooting pool since he was a kid, so betting on him winning a big money game was probably just part of the fantasy," Grissom said.

"Yeah, and he was a NASCAR fan, so the whole staged car chase, narrow get away," Nick said, "was everything he'd dreamed about."

"As was the partying in his hotel room," Catherine continued, "and the sex."

"Not quite," Sara said. "According to the script, 'Your employment ends with the good night kiss. You are not requested to perform, nor compensated for, any activity you initiate beyond this point. Should nature take its course, you are on your own.'"

"So, the staged fantasy ended at Jeff's hotel room," Grissom said.

Sara nodded.

"Which means he was off script when he was killed."

"I don't get it," Nick said. "After a night like that, I would have felt like Superman. Why leave the girl?"

Grissom narrowed his eyes slightly. "And, where did he go after leaving the girl?"

"Last time I talked to Archie, he said he hadn't gone through all the surveillance footage yet," Nick said. "He lost Jeff in the casino a couple times."

"Well," Grissom said, "I'll go see if he's found him yet."

* * *

After working with Archie, Grissom realized that Heidi had not merely told a story about a high roller boyfriend, she had pointed one out in the casino. Jeff, after his "Superman" evening, had fallen for her. Feeling the need to defend his lady, he had verbally attacked her "boyfriend."

Unfortunately, the high roller Heidi had chosen came complete with two body guards. In defense of their boss, they had attacked Jeff. Catherine matched the shoe of one of the body guard's to the wound on Jeff's neck. The man had kicked in Jeff's throat, sentencing him to death.

"He was still alive when they left," Catherine explained to the team, who had assembled in the break room to go over the final report on the case. "They probably thought they had just taught him a lesson."

"They did," Grissom said, looking across at Sara. "Don't confuse fantasy with reality."

Sara glanced up at him and smiled slightly.

"Well, hush money or not, you have to admit, that whole 'fantasy night' thing was a pretty cool gift, from a very generous boss," Greg said, looking at Grissom.

Grissom looked at him with a frown.

Sara smiled at him. "Greg, don't you have a birthday coming up?"

"Why, yes, Sara, I do," Greg said, grinning back at her.

Sara turned her smile to Grissom, who gave her a slight, amused, frown.

Catherine grinned. "I'm thinking ear-shredding rock, a beautiful model, boatloads of sushi and … latex?"

"Nah," Greg said, waving his hand. "That was last year."

Sara smiled at him.

"I think fantasies are best kept private," Grissom declared. He looked at Sara, who met his eyes without flinching.

"Hey," Nick said, finally joining them. "Wanna know why Jeff left the girl and went downstairs?"

"Yeah, okay," Catherine said.

Nick produced a jewelry box, which he opened to reveal a gorgeous, diamond bracelet. Sara's eyes widened at the sight of such an expensive piece of jewelry.

"This was dropped off at the Palermo," Nick said. "Manager sent it over."

"Nice rocks," Catherine said.

"Mm-hm," Nick agreed. "Jeff must have spent the ten Gs he won playing pool on it. Gift wrapped … never picked up."

"Yeah, there was a jewelry store right across from the service corridor entrance," Catherine said, thinking of the hall the body guards had dragged Jeff down.

"You know, the biggest fantasy in Vegas is that everything here happens by chance," Nick said. "Nothing here happens by chance. The odds are set before you get off the plane." He closed the jewelry box and left the room.

"You know," Greg said hopefully, "I'd settle for a birthday breakfast."

Catherine smiled. "Now, that is a fantasy."

They both stood and left the room together.

Realizing they were alone, Sara looked across at Grissom with a smile. He held her eyes with a look that sent tingles through her. Her smile widened at the look in his eyes.

"Thinking of a new fantasy right now, Griss?" she asked in a low, husky voice.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he asked, giving her a teasing smile.

Her eyes darkened. "Yes."

"Well, that's unfortunate," he said, standing up. "As I said before, fantasies are best kept private."

"Even from me?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Sara's eyes widened as he walked around the table and bent down to whisper in her ear, "If you're willing to come over after shift, I might be willing to share."

Sara's breath caught in her throat.

Grissom walked back around the table and to the door. He paused in the doorway to give her a smile full of promise, then was gone.

Sara swallowed and looked at her watch. Only half an hour to go.


	56. Fantasy Becomes Reality

* * *

A/N: In an effort to make amends for the cliffhanger in the last chapter, I'm posting this one earlier than anticipated! Consider it my gesture of good will.

Also, as a likely premature heads up, I will be away on a non-laptop compatible vacation the week after next. So, I'll probably update once more, then take two weekends off. Hopefully, by the end of the first week in August, I'll be back on schedule.

Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Fantasy Becomes Reality_

"Hello?" Sara called as she walked into Grissom's quiet home.

Hank bounded to the door to meet her, wagging his tail. She grinned at him.

"Hey, sweetie," she said, bending down to pet him. "Where's Daddy?"

"I'm right here," Grissom said as he walked up the stairs to greet her.

Sara's smile changed as she leaned into his embrace and kiss. "Hi," she whispered against his lips.

"Hi," he said, smiling at her. "I'm not Hank's father, you know."

Sara giggled. "I know. That's why you're his daddy."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"If worry and concern aren't the same, neither are father and daddy."

Grissom smiled. "You really do record everything I say, don't you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Sara asked with a teasing smile.

She stepped away from him and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. As she opened the fridge to take out a bottle of water, she noticed several pieces of paper on the counter.

"What's this?"

"I'm trying to work out my fantasy," Grissom explained as he made his way down the stairs. "Assuming that you wanted to be a part of it?"

Sara's eyes darkened. "You know I do," she said, her voice becoming husky again.

"Good," Grissom said, his own voice lower than normal.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Grissom teased.

Sara opened her bottle of water and rolled her eyes. "Don't play stupid. It doesn't look good on you."

"That wasn't stupid. It was oblivious."

"Whatever. Are you going to tell me what your fantasy is? Are you writing down costumes or places or …?" Sara glanced at the top paper. "Hey, wait. Griss, this doesn't have anything to do with a fantasy. This is next week's team schedule."

"Right," Grissom said. He grinned at her. "I knew I fell for your mind."

Sara made a face and shook her head. "Why can't you give me a straight answer today?"

Grissom took her hand and led her back upstairs, to the couch. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm stalling because … well, I'm nervous."

Sara frowned in confusion. "Nervous? About what?"

Grissom hesitated. "I said that fantasies are best kept private," he said at last. "That's something that I've always believed. I didn't want to confide my fantasies in anyone because I didn't want them to be ridiculed… _I_ didn't want to be ridiculed."

Sara touched his cheek, gently running her thumb over his beard. "Gil … I'd never ridicule you. You have to know that. To me, sharing a fantasy shows trust in your partner. No matter what you tell me, I'm not going to laugh at you, and, to be honest, I'm going to do my best to make your dreams come true."

He smiled and covered her hand with his. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed her fingers. "I know."

"So, tell me. What's your fantasy?"

"To be a normal couple."

Sara frowned. Aside from the fact that she had fully expected to hear him outline some kinky sexual fantasy, she was a slightly insulted by his words. "I wasn't aware we were all that abnormal."

Grissom smiled. "Sara, normal couples do not avoid touching each other when they're together just because no one can know about them. Normal couples don't guard their words. Normal couples don't have to worry about whether or not others can see through them."

"But … I thought you just said you liked the secrecy of our relationship."

"I do," he assured her. "It's just … I thought that, for one weekend, we could spend our time completely together, away from work, doing … whatever we want. Maybe I phrased it badly. What I want, what I fantasize about, is being with you for a weekend, without leaving the city, with utter freedom. I want us to have the sort of weekend that all those people who work nine to five jobs do: Come home from work on Friday and not have to think about it again until Monday, and spend all the time in between together. I want us to have a weekend we can devote just to us."

Sara smiled. She was beginning to like the sound of his fantasy. "Okay. So, you've got the schedules here so you can work out our weekend off, huh?"

"Yes," Grissom acknowledged. "I've already scheduled both of us off for the Fourth of July so we can go to San Francisco, so we're going to have to be a little bit sneaky about this one. I'm pretty sure the team would overlook it, but we can't let Ecklie get suspicious."

"So …?"

"So, I need you to work overtime like it's your job for the next two weeks," Grissom said. "I'm going to schedule myself the weekend off, but I'm going to have to be forced to give you the weekend because you've totally maxed yourself out on overtime. The only way to save it will be to ban you from the lab for two days."

Sara grinned. "Can I throw a tantrum at work? You know, when you tell me?"

"I'd expect nothing less."

Sara grinned again. "This is going to be fun."

* * *

Sara had assumed that keeping up her end of the bargain for Grissom's fantasy would be easy. Time and again, she had worked enough to max out on overtime; more often than not, she spent the last few days of the month confined to the lab to avoid going over her limit. Apparently, though, working enough to be totally banned from the lab was a different story.

By the end of two weeks spent working more than she had in ages, Sara was exhausted. She sat in the layout room with Nick and Warrick, listening as they went over evidence in a homicide the three of them were working together.

"I think it was the wife," Warrick said with conviction. "According to her sister, she only married him for his money to begin with. The will had been changed, naming her his sole heir. She had massive debts from before she married him that she wasn't telling him about, and she needed to pay them off before he found out. She wasn't willing to wait for him to die, so she killed him."

"Yeah, but, Warrick, she has an alibi," Nick argued.

Warrick shrugged. "So, maybe she hired someone to do the job."

"Okay," Sara said, willing herself to think straight. "Have we seen their bank records? Joint accounts, his accounts, her accounts? If she paid someone to kill her husband, there has to be a record of the transaction."

"I'll call Brass and get a warrant," Warrick said, pulling out his phone.

Grissom poked his head into the room. "Sara? Can I see you in my office?"

"Sure," Sara said, sliding off her stool.

Grissom nodded and left, heading in the direction of his office.

Nick looked at Sara sympathetically. "What did you do?"

"Who says I did anything?"

"Why else would Grissom want to see you in his office?"

Sara could think of plenty of reasons – most of them rather naughty –, but knew that she couldn't voice them to Nick. _There's one more thing to add to Grissom's list of reasons that we're an abnormal couple_.

She shrugged in answer to Nick's question. "I don't know," she said.

"Good luck," Nick said as she left the room.

Sara turned to smile at him. "Thanks. I'll let you know how it goes."

Leaving Nick alone with Warrick, who was still talking to Brass, Sara made her way to Grissom's office. She knocked lightly on the open door as she walked in.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Hi, Sara," Grissom said. "I want to show you something."

Sara nodded and crossed the room to his desk. "What's up?"

"This is a copy of the hours you've logged this month," he said, pushing a sheet of paper across the table at her.

Sara studied it for a moment. "Okay …"

"You've gone beyond maxing yourself out on overtime," Grissom said. "You've worked more hours than should be humanly possible."

Sara sighed. "So, I'm stuck in the lab till next month?"

"No."

She raised her eyebrows. "No?"

"You're _banned_ from the lab till next month."

Sara paused, staring at him. "What?" she asked quietly.

"You can finish today's shift, but, after that, I don't want to see you here till the first."

"Griss … that's three days!" she exclaimed. "I can't come back till Tuesday?"

"I'm sorry, Sara," he said. "But, I need to get your hours down. Just … try to go home on time once in a while, okay?"

"Grissom!" she nearly yelled. "This is ridiculous! Warrick, Nick and I are in the middle of a homicide! We're _this close_ to solving it! I want to be there for that!"

Grissom stared at her, wondering if she was still acting. She seemed genuinely upset about missing work. "Look, Sara, like I said, I'm sorry," he said. "But, I'm not the one at fault here. I didn't force you to work all these hours."

"Sometimes, Griss, you make me insane," Sara said, her eyes snapping with … humor? She winked at him, then left the room, arranging her face into a mask of anger.

She stormed into the layout room, where Warrick and Nick were still considering their evidence. They looked up at her in surprise.

"Oh, man," Nick said. "What happened?"

"I'm maxed out on overtime."

Warrick grinned. "Well, Sara, you can't say that's all that unusual. You max out about every other month."

"Yeah, but this time, he didn't stop me before I went over 'maxed,'" she said. "After tonight, I can't come back to work till _Tuesday_."

Nick and Warrick exchanged a glance.

"Um, Sar, I might be overstepping here, but, why on earth are you mad about this?" Nick asked. "You just scored a weekend off!"

"I'm leaving you two with our investigation," Sara said. "That's hardly fair."

"We'll be fine," Warrick said calmly. "I just got off the phone with Brass. He's getting warrants for the couple's bank accounts. We'll try to find a payment to a third party that signals a hit for hire. Assuming we can do that, Nick and I will have this case pretty much closed by the time you get back."

"But, what if we're way off on this?" Sara asked. "What if the wife really wasn't involved?"

"Well, then, we'll still be working on it when you get back," Warrick said. He grinned. "Girl, you need to calm down. If Grissom came in here and told me I could have the weekend off, I'd be dancing out the door. Go live it up!"

Sara smiled. "I guess you're right. I just don't like being tossed out of the lab."

"It's not like he fired you, Sar," Nick said with a smile. "Warrick's right. You need to calm down."

"All right, all right, I'm over it," Sara sighed. "Let's just get as much work done as we can in the next three hours, okay?"

"Yeah," Warrick agreed. He pulled his cell phone from his belt and began pressing buttons.

"What are you doing?" Sara asked with a bemused frown.

"Setting my alarm," he explained, putting the phone down on the table. "Otherwise, you'll never get out of here on time."

Sara swatted playfully at his arm, but didn't contradict his statement. He was probably right.

* * *

Exactly three hours later, Warrick's alarm went off. He and Nick chased Sara from the building, promising to call if they needed her – not that she'd be allowed to return.

Sara sighed as she got into her car. She _did_ feel badly about leaving Nick and Warrick alone with their investigation, but they had each other for help, and she was sure Catherine or Greg would be willing to back them up if they needed it.

As she drove toward Grissom's house, her concern for her teammates melted into excitement about the weekend ahead of her. She could hardly wait to start making Grissom's fantasy a reality.

Sara knew that Grissom wouldn't be home when she arrived. Unlike her, he didn't have Nick and Warrick pushing him out the door at the end of the shift. She had already decided, during her drive, that she would make Grissom breakfast as a "welcome to the start of your fantasy" present. He had never said that that was part of his fantasy, but she was sure that he'd appreciate it.

Her arrival was, therefore, delayed slightly by the required stop at the grocery store. She wasn't sure what Grissom had in his refrigerator, but she was more than sure of what she wanted to have for breakfast. She wanted to be certain that nothing was left out.

* * *

An hour later, Grissom opened his door, allowing Hank, who he had picked up from the sitter's on the way, run into the house ahead of him. He was only slightly surprised to hear Sara exclaim a greeting at the sight of the dog.

"Hi," he called as he closed the door.

"Hi," she said, grinning up at him from her position kneeling on the floor to pet Hank. She clambered to her feet to kiss him. "I made breakfast."

"So I see," Grissom said, surveying the plates of eggs, pancakes and sliced fruit. "Did I tell you that was part of my fantasy?"

"No-o," Sara said slowly. "But, I figured that it wouldn't hurt. What better way to begin our couple-y weekend than having your girlfriend welcome you home from work with a home cooked meal?"

Grissom grinned and leaned in to primly kiss her cheek. "My little homemaker," he teased.

"I thought about putting on a skirt, heels and pearls, but I thought that might be going a bit far," Sara said, teasing smile firmly in place. "Besides, I left my pearls at home." She took his hand to lead him to the table. "Come on. Let's eat."

As they sat down to their breakfast feast, Grissom's eyes fell upon a can of whipped cream that was sitting in the middle of the table.

"Why do we have whipped cream?" he asked.

"I thought it might be nice with the fruit," Sara replied, the picture of wide-eyed innocence. She picked up the can and shook it, then spread the topping over the cherries on her plate. She picked one up and licked some of the cream off before popping it into her mouth. "So-o much better with whipped cream."

She picked the can up again, but Grissom's hand shot out to stop her before she could add any more to her plate. She raised her eyebrows in a silent question.

"Let's save the rest of that," he said hoarsely. He paused to clear his throat. "Let's save that … for dessert," he said, this time managing to get out his entire sentence.

Sara smiled and set the can back down. "Whatever you want," she said innocently. "This weekend is all about you."

He grinned and shook his head. "Don't give me that innocent look," he said. "You knew what you were doing the whole time."

Sara grinned. "I might have had some ideas …"

"And, I think I might have a few of my own." Grissom winked at her and cut into his pancakes. "But, first, we have to eat this breakfast that you made for us."

They had never eaten a meal so fast in their lives.

* * *

When Sara awoke later that day, Grissom was already awake, watching his fingers as they traced patterns across her bare back. She turned so that she could face him, shocking him into pulling his hand away.

"Hey," she said drowsily.

"Hi, sleepyhead," he teased.

"Sleepyhead?" she repeated. "It's not my fault you kept me up for hours!"

Grissom laughed. "Yes, it is your fault. You're too irresistible."

"Whatever."

"You are," he said, running his fingers down her cheek. "You're so gorgeous, Sara … I still don't know what you're doing with someone like me."

Even as her face flushed a bright shade of red at the compliment, his words triggered a memory. She flipped onto her side to look at him fully. "Griss? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"When we were working Jeff Powell's murder, you said something …"

"I said a lot of things, dear. You're going to need to be more specific."

"Right after we got back from Caprice Unlimited, we got together with Nick and Catherine to go over the script and the events of the evening."

"I remember."

"Nicky said something about any man wanting to help a beautiful woman who needed him, but you disagreed. You said that men are intimidated by beautiful women."

"Some men are," he said with a nod.

"Do you really believe that?" Sara asked.

"Certainly," Grissom said. "I've always been intimidated by beautiful women."

Sara grinned. "Like your tenth grade crush?"

"Yes," Grissom agreed. "And, like you."

Sara's eyes widened. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Grissom said, giving her a smile. "You are a very beautiful woman, Sara."

Her cheeks flushed. "Thank you," she nearly whispered. She cleared her throat. "I had no idea you were intimidated by me."

He smiled. "If I hadn't been, I would have asked you out as soon as I answered your first question at that lecture. I would have kissed you good bye when I left you in San Francisco. I would have … Well, I would have done a lot of things differently."

Sara cocked her head to the side. "Do you regret it, now? The way things were between us for all those years?"

Grissom looked thoughtful. "Not really. I don't think I was ready for us to be together like this before now." He paused. "Do you regret it?"

Sara shook her head. "I've always believed that good things come to those who wait. And, _this_, what we have, is a very, _very_ good thing."

Grissom smiled. "I think so, too."

He leaned in to kiss her, gently easing her back down onto her back. She broke the kiss and smiled up at him.

"I thought your fantasy involved us doing couple-y things?"

"What's not couple-y about this?" he asked, settling himself on top of her. "Besides, you said I was calling the shots this weekend. And, right now … I think you have a very good idea what I'd like to do."

Sara giggled and reached up to kiss him again.

* * *

It was considerably later when they finally managed to pull themselves out of bed. While Sara showered, Grissom made them dinner. They had completely slept – and not slept – through lunch.

After dinner, they took Hank for a walk to the park. Once there, they settled down on a bench. Grissom unclipped the dog's leash and threw a ball for him to chase. Hank enthusiastically retrieved the ball, bringing it back for Grissom to toss again.

"This is nice," Sara said taking his free hand as he threw Hank's ball yet again.

"You thought it wouldn't be?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Sara said. "I just … When you said you were going to tell me your fantasy, I expected something more … sexual."

"Ah," Grissom said with dawning understanding. "I see."

"Do you have sexual fantasies?" Sara asked.

Grissom smiled at her. "I think you make them all come true for me just by being you."

Sara's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. "You know what I mean, Griss …"

"I do," he agreed. He was quiet for a moment. "Do you remember that conversation we had on the way to Caprice Unlimited? The one about Halloween costumes?"

"Yeah," Sara said. "You said that you didn't like to dress up when you were little."

"I said that I didn't like pretending to be someone I'm not," Grissom clarified. "Maybe I'm wrong, but, plenty of sexual fantasies tend to involve one or both participants pretending to be someone they're not. I just … don't see the point. What we do in our bed is between us. Why bring someone else, even someone fictional, into that?" He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "This is much more my idea of a fantasy than anything else."

Sara smiled and laid her head on his shoulder.

Sudden concern gripped Grissom. "Sara …"

"Yeah?" she said, sitting up again to look at him.

"Just so you know, if your fantasy involves costumes or pretending to be someone else … that's fine. I'll go along with it the same way you went along with mine – with an open mind and without ridicule."

Sara didn't answer with words. She merely leaned across to kiss him.

Grissom was more than happy to return the favor.

* * *

At the end of a weekend spent eating together, sleeping together and playing together, Grissom and Sara were both completely relaxed and content. Sara marveled at how much she had needed to spend time with Grissom like that without even realizing it.

As they got ready to go back to work, he smiled at her.

"Sara … thank you."

"For what?" she asked distractedly, checking her bag for her lab ID.

"For making my fantasy a reality."

She looked up at him and grinned. "This was wonderful, Gil. Truly wonderful. I think it was a fantasy of mine, too – I just hadn't realized it."

Grissom cleared his throat. "Speaking of …"

"Speaking of what?"

"Well, we've done my fantasy," Grissom said. "Now it's your turn."

"My turn?" Sara asked, giving him a coy smile.

"Mm-hm. You tell me your fantasy, and we'll make it happen."

Sara smiled again, this time a teasing smile. "What if I told you that my fantasy was to have sex with a pirate?"

Grissom gave her a roguish grin. "I'd have to say, prepare to be boarded."

Sara laughed for so long that Grissom had to join in.

"Seriously, Sara, what's your fantasy?"

Sara reached out to touch his face, gently cupping his cheek in her hand. She leaned forward until her lips hovered over his. "You," she whispered.

Grissom pulled back just before she could kiss him. "What?" he asked with a confused grin.

"_You_ are my fantasy," Sara said. "All I wanted for the longest time was to be with you like this – to be your girlfriend. Now that I am …" She shrugged. "I get to live out my fantasy every day."

The honesty behind her words was almost too much for Grissom. His throat ached so much that he couldn't even consider talking. He closed the distance between them to kiss her, letting his lips gently caress hers.

Sara sighed against his lips and pulled back ever so slightly, enough to whisper, "Reality is _so_ much better than fantasy."


	57. A Dangerous Job

A/N: I want to start off by saying that I don't delight in tormenting you. That's why I'm posting this chapter as it is. Right now, it's about half of what I had initially planned to write. But, because I just got home from vacation Sunday night and went straight back to work on Monday morning, I'm sure that I won't have it to the point I had intended before next week, when I'll be off again and have more time to work. So, I know I'm leaving you with a cliffhanger, but I think you'll like the way the chapter goes … at least up till that point. And, I'll post the next installment as quickly as possible.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, and for your patience!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episodes 623, "Bang-Bang" and 624, "Way to Go."

* * *

_A Dangerous Job_

Working with a talented team, it was easy to forget that cases didn't always go according to plan. It was easy to forget that, sometimes, the good guys didn't win.

But, it happened. Evidence was overlooked or misinterpreted. Lies were believed. Suspects were never found.

And, when things didn't go right, sometimes, the good guys got hurt.

* * *

The ringing of Grissom's cell phone broke the silence of his office. He picked it up and answered it without much thought.

"Grissom."

"Griss, we've got a situation."

"Okay, Warrick, I'm listening."

"Willie Cutler just went crazy," Warrick said. "He was on the casino floor, fighting with some guy. One of the guards found him, but, before he could do anything, Cutler grabbed the guard's gun and shot him with it. He took the gun and went up in the elevator. Right now, he's in one of the hotel rooms, holding some woman hostage."

"Has PD been notified?"

"Yeah, SWAT's here already," Warrick said.

"What about a negotiator?" Grissom asked.

"Um … Yeah, Griss …"

"Warrick, what's wrong?" Grissom asked, a warning tone edging into his voice.

"Brass went in to negotiate," Warrick said.

"Brass?" Grissom repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah," Warrick said. "The negotiator still isn't here, and he wanted this thing done. He wanted that girl out of the room."

"Yeah," Grissom said, knowing Brass and how he worked. "Yeah, I could see that. Have you heard from him at all?"

"He called me a few minutes ago and said that Cutler wants to talk to Sammy."

"His brother?"

"Yeah."

"Have you found him?"

"We're working on it. But, Griss, I have to be honest: I don't think that he's in this casino. There's a lot of footage to go through, though. They've got their entire security team on it."

"Okay," Grissom said. "You're still in the surveillance room at the casino?"

"I was. I'm on my way to the room where Brass is with Cutler now."

"Warrick, you listen to me. I do not want you going in there. Do you hear me? Stay out of that room and away from Cutler until SWAT has done its job. Okay?"

"Yeah, Griss, I hear you," Warrick said, surprised by the urgency in his boss's voice.

"Think of your wife," Grissom continued. "I do not want to have to call Tina to tell her that you were shot at work tonight."

Considering the fight he had just had with Tina and the fact that he had wrongly accused her of cheating on him, Warrick wasn't sure she'd be all that upset to hear that he had been shot. No, no, that was wrong. It was just a fight. He was sure that she loved him, and he knew that he loved her. They'd be fine.

"Warrick?"

"Yeah, Griss," Warrick said. "I'll be careful. I promise."

Grissom exhaled. "Good. Keep me updated, okay?"

"I will."

"Thanks." Grissom closed his phone and put it down on his desk. He stared at it for a minute as though waiting for it to ring again with more news.

"Hey."

Grissom looked up to see Sara walking into his office. He gave her a faint smile. "Hi."

The look on his face was enough to tell Sara that something horrible had happened. "What's wrong?" she asked, sitting down across from him.

Grissom sighed. "Warrick just called. He said Willie Cutler was in the Lucky Dragon. He shot a guard and is currently holed up in a hotel room with a hostage. SWAT is already there."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Wait. I thought that his brother was the one we wanted?"

"Apparently, violence is a way of life for both siblings. He's demanding to talk to his brother."

"Well, he can do that if we ever find him," Sara said. "Is a negotiator talking him down?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Sara raised her eyebrows in silent question.

"Brass is negotiating."

Sara's eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Brass?" she repeated in disbelief. "Grissom, he's not a negotiator!"

"No, he's not," Grissom agreed. "But, he's been trained in situations like this. And, he questioned Willie before, so he has an established relationship with him."

Sara shook her head. "I don't like this, Gil."

"Neither do I, but there's not much we can do about it now."

Sara stood up. "Yes, there is. I'm going to go research Sammy Cutler a little. See if we can find something that will help Brass."

"Okay," Grissom agreed. "Good luck."

"Thanks. Call me if you hear anything."

"I will."

She gave him an encouraging sort of smile and left the office. Thinking that the internet would be her best and quickest source of information, she made her way to the nearest open computer.

A few minutes with Google yielded results. They just weren't the results she wanted to see. Sara stared at the screen, reading the words over and over again.

Sammy Cutler had died in a car crash in Mexico. They were chasing a ghost.

Sara clicked the print icon, grabbed the document and rushed to Grissom's office with her new information. They needed to let Brass know – fast.

"Griss," she said, bringing his head up from the case file he was reading, "you've got to see this. I found it on the internet."

Grissom took the document and scanned it. His eyes snapped up to meet Sara's.

"He's been dead for two months?" he asked.

Sara nodded.

Grissom grabbed his phone to call Brass. It rang three times before Brass answered.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Jim," Grissom said urgently, "Sammy Cutler's dead. He died in a car crash in Mexico two months ago. Willie had to know. He's been playing us."

"I got it," Brass said. "Thanks."

The line went dead as Brass hung up. Grissom closed his own phone. Sara looked at him with questions in her eyes.

"We've done all we can," Grissom said. "Now, we wait."

Sara exhaled and sat down across from him. "You know, patience has never been one of my strong points."

"Well, it is a virtue," Grissom said. "Maybe this will be an experience that will help you to develop it."

She gave him a slight smile. "Maybe."

Despite Grissom's implication that they would be waiting for quite some time, everything happened far too quickly. One minute, Grissom and Sara were talking about the case, about the way that Willie had fooled them all, about pulling evidence together against him, about the trial that awaited them. The next, Grissom's phone was ringing. He looked at Sara for a moment, then answered it.

"Grissom."

Warrick's panicked voice came across the line. "Griss, Brass has been shot!"

Time suddenly stood still.

"How serious is it?" Grissom asked, forcing himself to remain calm.

"I don't know," Warrick said, sounding dangerously close to tears. "Yeah, I do. It's bad, Griss. Really bad. He's on his way to Desert Palms now."

"I'll meet you there."

Grissom put the phone down and looked at Sara.

"It's not good, is it?" she asked fearfully.

"Brass was shot," Grissom said. "Warrick said that it's pretty serious. I'm going to the hospital now. I need to meet them there."

"Do you want me to come along?"

"No," Grissom said slowly. "No, you stay here. Let the others know what's going on."

She nodded. "You're sure you'll be okay?"

He touched her cheek briefly, his eyes caressing her face. "I'll be fine."

* * *

Under Sheriff McKeen was already at the hospital when Grissom arrived. He looked haggard.

"Hi, Grissom," he said.

"Hello," Grissom replied. "Any news?"

"Not yet."

Grissom glanced around. "Where's Warrick?"

McKeen nodded to the right. Grissom followed his eyes and saw Warrick standing in front of a window, staring out into the dark night. Grissom crossed the room and stood next to him silently.

"I'm glad you're here," Warrick said quietly, not turning to look at Grissom. He exhaled slowly. "There was so much blood, Griss. So much blood."

"Brass is strong," Grissom said quietly. "He can fight this."

"Yeah," Warrick said, running his hands over his face. "Yeah." He glanced at his watch. "Listen, I'm going to go walk around. Will you call me when you hear anything?"

"Of course."

Warrick nodded and walked toward the elevators.

Grissom watched him go, then rejoined McKeen. They were in for a long night.

* * *

Warrick wandered the halls of the ER almost aimlessly. He wasn't sure what he was looking for until he realized that he was searching through the crowd, looking for Tina.

She found him before he found her. He heard her voice from behind him, calling his name.

"Warrick? What are you doing here?"

Warrick turned to face her, his face crumpling slightly. "Tina," he almost whispered.

She rushed to him, putting her hands on his shoulders, running them down his arms. "Warrick, baby, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen at work?"

"Tina," he said again, "Tina, I'm so sorry. I never should have … I saw you with that guy, and I just assumed the worst. I don't know why I thought that. It was so wrong of me. I love you, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, Warrick, I love you, too," Tina said. "Did you come all the way over here just to apologize?"

"Yeah. No. I …"

Fear gripped her again. "Warrick, please, tell me what's wrong."

His face crumpled again. "Jim was shot."

"What?" Tina gasped.

"He was negotiating a hostage situation at the Lucky Dragon. The guy went nuts and shot him." His eyes widened. "Oh, God, Tina, thank God you were out of there. Thank God I said that. Thank God I made you mad enough to leave. "

She looked at him with wide eyes. "The hostage … was it …?"

"It was just some woman in the casino. It could have been you." He grabbed her, pulling her tightly against him, pressing kisses into her hair. "Thank God you left. Thank God."

She clutched him to her. "Thank God it wasn't _you_ who was negotiating," she said. She pulled back to look at him. "Is Jim okay?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "He's in with the doctors now."

"Down here?"

Warrick nodded. "Can you help him?"

"I'll go see what's going on with him."

"Thanks."

Tina kissed his cheek. "You wait here. I'll be right back."

Warrick paced nervously, waiting for Tina to return. No matter what information she brought, he knew that she would tell him the truth.

The longest ten minutes of his life later, Tina reappeared. She looked grim as she approached him.

"What did you learn?" Warrick asked.

"His condition is really serious, Warrick," she said quietly. "He has a bullet lodged near his heart. They may need to operate to get it … but, operating may not be an option. Right now, they're trying to stop the bleeding."

Warrick ran his hands over his face. "Tina, please just tell me that he's going to be okay."

"You know I can't do that. Not yet."

"Isn't there anything you can do?"

"I'm not his doctor," she said uncertainly.

"Tina, please, you've got to help him," Warrick begged.

"Warrick, I'm trying, but I'm not a cardiologist," Tina said. She put her hands on his cheeks, cupping his face. "Listen to me, baby. Jim Brass is strong. He can fight his way out of this. I know it."

Tears filled Warrick's eyes. "He's always been there, you know? He was my first supervisor … he was the one who asked Grissom to train me …"

"I know what he means to you and your team," Tina said softly. "I'll keep an eye on him, okay? I'll check on him as often as I can, and I'll ask to be paged if his condition changes at all. I'll update you as much as I can."

Warrick nodded. "Okay." He exhaled slowly. "Thanks, Tina. I love you."

She smiled and gently pressed her lips against his. "I love you, too."

* * *

Grissom and McKeen did not talk as they waited for new about Brass. Grissom, never inclined toward small talk, was content to remain silent. McKeen knew Grissom well enough to know that it was pointless to try to draw him out.

Over an hour after Grissom's arrival, a surgeon stepped into the waiting area. He paused to speak to a receptionist, who pointed toward Grissom and McKeen. Exchanging a glance, they stood up as the doctor approached him.

"I'm Dr. Jordan," he said, extending his hand to shake both of theirs. "You're here for Captain Brass?"

"I'm Under Sheriff Jeff McKeen and this is Gil Grissom, our CSI graveyard supervisor," McKeen supplied. "How is Jim?"

The surgeon drew a deep breath. "Captain Brass was shot twice. First bullet lodged in his vest. The second entered through his axilla, hit an artery and is lodged near his heart. He has internal hemorrhaging."

Grissom felt his heart sink. "Any neural damage?" he asked.

"We won't know that until we stop the bleeding – _if_ we stop it." The doctor paused. "Have next of kin been notified?"

Grissom glanced at McKeen for a moment, then back at the doctor. "For medical purposes, I have his power of attorney."

Dr. Jordan nodded. "You may have a decision to make. I'll let you know."

Grissom nodded. He had anticipated that. He had only hoped that he would be wrong.

With a nod to both of them, Dr. Jordan disappeared back down the hall, presumably to continue his work with Brass. Grissom's phone rang, disturbing the uneasy silence that had fallen with the doctor's exit. He pulled the phone from his pocket and flipped it open.

"Grissom."

"Grissom, it's Sofia. Look, I'm sure you're at the hospital, and I'm sorry to disturb you, but I've got a headless DB on the train tracks in Henderson. I thought you'd want to take a look at it."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Nick was on-call, so he's already on his way here," she continued. "I'll tell him you're on your way."

"Okay," he agreed.

"Thanks, Grissom."

Without speaking further, Sofia hung up. Grissom closed his phone and looked at the Under Sheriff.

"DB in Henderson on the train tracks," he said.

McKeen looked away for a moment, then back at Grissom. "I'll take the first watch. You go to work."

Without so much as a goodbye, Grissom made his way out of the hospital. He walked by quite a few police officers who were waiting with ashen faces for information about Brass. He wanted to give them some encouragement, to tell them that their colleague would be fine … But, he knew that wasn't the case. He had no idea if Brass would be fine or not.

He stepped outside into the cool darkness that came with the late desert nights. Sighing, he pulled out his phone again.

As he listened to it ring, he silently acknowledged that he wasn't calling her because he truly needed help on the case. He was calling her because he needed _her_.

"Sidle."

"Sara, it's me," Grissom said. "I've got a new case – a DB on the train tracks on Henderson. Can you help me with it?"

"Sure," she replied. "Is that the one that Nick headed out on a little bit ago?"

"Yeah, that one," he agreed. "Will you meet us there?"

"Of course. I'll see you in a little bit."

Grissom smiled for the first time since receiving Warrick's panicked phone call. "Thanks, Sara. I'll see you there."

"See you there," she repeated.

Closing his phone, Grissom climbed into his car. It was time to get to work.

* * *

When Grissom arrived at the scene, Nick and David were already there. David was taking notes and Nick snapping pictures of their decapitated victim as Grissom and Sofia walked down the tracks.

"The last train passed through here an hour ago," Sofia said as they approached Nick and the victim. "The engineer thought he saw a body on the tracks, but couldn't stop in time. He radioed dispatch, who called 911."

Nick straightened up and shone his flashlight on the body, which was dressed in long underwear and boots. "No ID. Probably decapitated by the train."

"Well, if scavengers nicked his clothes, they left a nice pair of riding boots," Grissom commented as he surveyed their victim.

"They probably didn't have time to finish the job before the trains roared through here," Nick said.

"The engineer isn't saying anything else until his union rep gets here, which could be awhile," Sofia said. "I'll let you know."

She stepped away to let them work. Grissom set down his kit and surveyed the body again.

"You know," Nick said, "there's not a lot of blood on the ground for a decapitation like this."

"Well, we don't know how far he was dragged," Grissom said. "Where's the head?"

A somewhat pained expression crossed Nick's face as he nodded. "I'll find it."

Grissom began to study the area around the body, stooping down to get a better look at something furry. He lifted it up, and found himself somewhat surprised to discover that it was a toupee.

"Hey, Nick," he called.

Nick stopped walking and turned to face Grissom again. "Yeah?"

"I think I found a toupee. Our vic may be bald."

"Thanks," Nick said dryly. "That will help me distinguish it from the _other_ severed heads I find out here."

Grissom smiled as he stood up, toupee in hand.

"Whoa."

David's exclamation brought Grissom's attention back to him and the body. David had opened the man's clothes to reveal his exceptionally small and distorted waist. Grissom looked down at it for a long moment.

"What a waist," he said at last.

David looked up at him and shook his head. "Do you think up these puns in advance, or do they just come to you?"

"How 'bout a liver temp, Dave?" Grissom asked.

"I'm on it."

David was still working on finding the victim's liver when Sara arrived fifteen minutes later.

"David, are you getting the liver temp or performing acupuncture?" Grissom asked.

"Well, his liver's not where it's supposed to be," he said. "Do you think this is some kind of birth defect?"

Grissom looked at Sara, who was bent over, looking at the body in shock. "What do you think?"

"I think," she said slowly, "I feel fat."

Grissom smiled at her.

"Yes!" David exclaimed. "Got it!"

Sara proposed that the victim could have committed suicide, which Grissom was willing to acknowledge as a strong possibility.

"Nick's searching for his head right now," he said. "We're not sure if he was hit here or dragged down the tracks. But, until we learn otherwise, let's assume this is the primary scene. Want to help me process?"

"Sure," Sara said, opening her kit. "Let's get started."

They worked together until Grissom received a call from the hospital. Brass had been stabilized. They were assessing him to decide how to proceed. They would call him as soon as they knew more.

"This is good news, right?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Grissom said, his face strained. "It's good."

"Then why do you look like it's not?"

He smiled at her. "It's good news."

"Gil …"

"I'm fine, Sara," he said. "Let's just get back to the lab. We need to process the body."

"Right," she said, shaking her head. "Let's go."

* * *

Once they returned to the lab, Sara and Grissom separated to work on different aspects of the case. She didn't see him again until several hours later, while she was dropping off fibers to Hodges for analysis.

"Sara, can I see you?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied, following him to his office. "What's up?"

"I just got off the phone with Jim's doctor," he said. "I need to go to the hospital. They want to operate, and need my permission to do it."

Sara nodded. "Gil … have you called Ellie?"

He sighed. "I wanted to wait until we knew something more concrete."

"I'd say this is pretty concrete."

He nodded. "I'll call her after I talk to the doctor."

"Good." Sara gave him an encouraging smile. "Brass is tough, Gil. He'll pull through this. I know it."

"I hope you're right, sweetheart. I really do."

Grissom touched her cheek, then left her alone in his office. Sara exhaled and sat down in one of his visitor's chairs.

She was terrified that she was wrong. That Brass wouldn't pull through. She didn't know how they'd make it without him.

But, she was almost ashamed to admit that she was even more worried about Grissom. He was putting up a brave front, but she knew that he was teetering on the edge of losing it. Maybe it was a good thing they had this case. It would provide him with the distraction he so desperately needed.

And, she'd be there to provide the emotional support he needed. She just hoped that she'd be able to stay strong enough for both of them.

* * *

Grissom consented to the surgery. Although Dr. Jordan refused to give odds, saying that they weren't in a casino, Grissom could see that it was the best option. There were many risks, to be sure, but the potential gain outweighed them.

He could only hope that he had made the right decision.

Knowing that Sara was right, and that Brass needed his daughter by his side, Grissom called Ellie. He got her answering machine, but hoped that she would get his message and come to Las Vegas. It would mean so much to Jim.


	58. Mortality

A/N: This would have been done so much faster if it weren't for the Olympics. What can I say? I love that Michael Phelps!

Aside from the Olympic distraction, this was a very intense chapter to write. There was just so much that had to be included for it to truly do the episode justice. It's very long, but I don't think you'll be too upset about that! I just really, really hope you like it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 624, "Way to Go." I also do not own "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley.

* * *

_Mortality_

"_Maybe I'm crazy_ –"

The ringing of Sara's cell phone made her stop singing and turn off the radio. She fumbled for her phone while trying to keep her eyes on the road.

"Sidle."

"Hi."

"Hi, Griss," Sara replied, smiling. "What's up?"

"What were you like when you were about twenty-five?"

Sara blinked. "You would know, I guess. I was twenty-six when we met."

"Oh."

Sara frowned. "What's wrong, Griss?"

Grissom sighed. "I just had my first run-in with Ellie Brass."

"Oh." In one word, Sara managed to convey a deep understanding of Brass's daughter.

"You met her before," Grissom said as a long-lost memory resurfaced.

"Just once," Sara said. "She was a suspect in that case Warrick, Nick and I had when you and Catherine were out of town." She shook her head. "That was years ago."

"I had forgotten."

Sara smiled. "I was so mad at you that weekend. You gave Warrick shift over me."

Grissom smiled slightly. "You weren't ready."

"I know that now." She paused. "Tell me about Ellie."

"I'm afraid I made a mistake, Sara. I shouldn't have called her. She's loud, she's jaded, she's angry, she's negative, she's …"

"She's his daughter," Sara said quietly. "Despite all her faults, she's still his little girl. He knows her and he loves her. I know he'd want her here."

"Yeah," Grissom said slowly. "You're right. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Where did you see her? At the hospital?"

"Yeah. Since Jim is in surgery, she asked me to let her in to his house."

"You have his keys?" Sara asked, a bit surprised.

"No. She … um … wanted me to use my power as a cop to get her in."

"Well, did you?" Sara teased.

"Sara …"

"Sorry."

"You should have seen the way she looked at me when she asked," he said. "It was as if she wanted to seduce me to get what she wanted out of me. As if …" He trailed off, his disgust clear in his voice.

"Gil, we both know what she is," Sara said calmly. "Jim knows it, too. And, still …"

"We're going to have to keep an eye on her," he said.

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think she needs to know how much Jim cares about her. This isn't about her right now, but she's trying to make it that way. She's trying to make herself the center of attention. Am I right?"

"Yeah," Grissom acknowledged, thinking of how Ellie had yelled at the nurse who wouldn't let her see her father.

"She had a father who worked crazy hours," she said. "She probably thought she had to stand out to make him notice her."

"Jim –"

"Jim was a great father, I'm sure," Sara interrupted. "But, we both know what it's like to work in this industry. We both know how much Catherine hates the way her job takes her away from Lindsey. I'm sure Jim was no better with Ellie." She exhaled. "To gain attention, kids will do what they think will win it. Some excel in academics or sports to make their parents proud. Others act out so their parents will see them."

"Ellie is choosing to act out," Grissom said slowly.

"Exactly."

"She has to know that Jim loves her."

"Maybe … she doesn't."

"Maybe," he agreed. "Okay. I think I get what you're saying." He paused. "This is all making me very glad that we don't have children."

His last words sent a tingly feeling zinging through Sara. The idea that he could see them having children together warmed her all over. She suddenly wanted to see him as soon as possible. "Where are you?" she asked.

"On my way back to the lab. I should be there in another ten minutes or so."

"Okay," Sara said. "I just went out to the scene to check something, but I'm on my way back to the lab, too. I'll come and see you when I have a chance."

"I'll be looking forward to it."

"Griss, I –" Sara stopped short. She had been on the verge of finishing with "love you," but, for some reason, couldn't bring herself to do it. Not over the phone. "I'll see you when I see you," she finished quickly.

"Bye, Sara," he said quietly.

"Bye."

She closed her phone and sighed. Why couldn't she just tell him? Why was it so hard?

She opened her phone again and dialed her _other_ best friend.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Mary asked cheerfully as she answered the phone.

"I am," Sara replied. "I just … needed to talk."

"What's wrong?" Mary asked.

"Brass was shot," Sara said in a rush.

"What?" Mary exclaimed. "Is he all right?"

"I don't know. He's in surgery now."

"Oh, Sara. I'm so sorry."

Sara was shocked by the sudden tears that gathered in her eyes. "Oh, shit. Hang on, Mar."

She pulled over, putting on her blinkers.

"Sara?"

"I'm driving," she said. "I had to stop."

"Are you still driving?"

"No, I pulled over."

"Probably a good plan." Mary paused. "Sara, are you all right?"

"No," Sara nearly whispered. "I'm scared, Mary. I'm so scared that Jim won't make it through this."

"Is it that bad?"

"They're doing surgery right now to remove a bullet that is lodged near his heart."

Mary exhaled. "Yeah. It's that bad."

The tears returned, filling Sara's eyes again. "I can't imagine going to work without him," she said. "I can't … I don't know what we'd do without him. Any of us."

"So, don't," Mary said. "Just … think positive, Sara. If they're doing the surgery, it means they think they have a good chance of saving him."

"Yeah," Sara said, taking a shaky breath. "Yeah, you're right. It's just so scary."

"I know," Mary murmured soothingly.

"Grissom has his medical power of attorney," Sara said.

"Why?" Mary asked blankly.

"He's divorced, and his daughter is … well, she's a prostitute who used to be a drug addict," Sara said. "She's not … I wouldn't leave my life in her hands, either."

"No, I can see that," Mary said, working to conceal her horror at Sara's description of Ellie. Her eyes unconsciously drifted to her own daughter, who was sleeping on the couch, the stuffed dog Sara had given her tucked under her arm.

"It's so much pressure on him, Mar," Sara said. "To make these decisions for one of your best friends … for someone you've worked with every single day for years … And, on top of that, he's just as worried about Brass as I am …"

"He's got you, though," Mary said. "He has you to lean on."

"I wish he'd lean a little harder," Sara said ruefully. "I feel like I have to be invincibly strong every single moment, because I never know when he's going to look to me for strength." Her breath caught in her throat. "I just … I guess that's why I called you. I just needed a few minutes … to be weak."

"Oh, sweetie," Mary sighed.

"I'm sorry, Mary," Sara said, fighting tears yet again.

"Sara, cry," Mary commanded. "I know what you're doing, and it's defeating the purpose of this call. I know you're scared, and I know how hard it is for you to be weak, but just … let go. I know I'm not physically in the car, but I'm here for you. Okay? I'm right here."

And, with those words, Sara let go. She began to cry in earnest, clutching the phone, listening to Mary's soothing words. When her spasm of tears was spent, she took deep, calming breaths.

"Thanks, Mary," she said at last.

"Anytime," Mary said quietly. She sighed. "I wish I could see you."

"Me, too."

"Maybe …"

"Maybe what?"

"Nothing. Are you driving again?"

"Yeah. Will you talk to me until I get back to the lab?"

"Of course."

* * *

Once she arrived at the lab, Sara logged in her newly-acquired evidence, then made a beeline for the locker room. Opening her locker, she grabbed her toiletries, hoping to eliminate any evidence her tears had left on her face. After spending some quality time at the sink, she put her things away and began her search for Grissom.

She found him in his office. The lights were at his favorite dim level; he was sitting in silence in one of the chairs in front of his desk, reading something. She walked in without knocking.

"How's it going?" she asked as she crossed the room, bringing his head around to glance at her. As soon as she was close enough to touch him, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he said, nodding slightly.

Sara looked at him for a moment as though she didn't quite believe him. Finally taking his words as truth, she looked down at the book in his hands. Her eyes widened slightly at the illustrations.

"That's a man in a corset," she said. Certainly not Grissom's usual six- to eight-legged fare.

"Corset training," he said, looking up at her. "A venerable practice."

"Maybe for Scarlett O'Hara," Sara said, barely able to contain her laughter. "Since when was it equal opportunity?"

"In Victorian times, it was considered a staple of masculine attire," Grissom said. "Students in British boarding schools were encouraged to lose an inch a year from the time they were fourteen on."

"I guess I should feel comforted that sadistic ideas of beauty aren't restricted to women," Sara said as she sat down. She gave Grissom a smile.

Grissom nodded and flipped a page in his book to show her another picture. "It's called a 'wasp waist,' which is revealing. The wasp is from the insect group _hymenoptera_. The notion of hymen indicates virginity. In predacious wasps, the genitalia no longer functions as a reproductive organ. It's used as a stinger."

Sara nodded slowly. "Go in for sex and get stung. Pretty much every man's fear." She pursed her lips to hide a smile.

"Hm." Grissom nodded and held Sara's eyes far longer than was wise. As her expression slid into a look that clearly said he would not be "stung" anytime soon, he began to speak again. "The, uh, victim was shot, body dumped, clothes burned."

"The corset, too," Sara said, switching gears from "girlfriend" to "coworker" with a slight shake of her head. "The bone fragments that Nick found at the crime scene were whale bone, which is what they used to make corsets out of." She paused, frowning slightly. "Where did you learn so much about corsets?"

"I have my sources."

Sara's eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, really? Care to elaborate?"

He didn't, really – he had started reading about male corseting practices after seeing a man wearing a corset at Lady Heather's Dominion during their first investigation there years ago. Somehow, that didn't seem like a wise thing to tell Sara. Finally, he settled on the truth, but without any details.

"I read, Sara," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes, you scare me."

"Do I?" he asked, smiling playfully.

"Just a little," she said with a grin. "But, I kind of like it."

His smile changed to one that generally led them to the bedroom. Before she could find herself lost in it, Sara broke eye contact and cleared her throat.

"Well," she said, standing up, "I'd better start researching vintage clothing dealers in the area. Someone must sell corsets."

"Good luck," Grissom said.

"Thanks." She touched his shoulder again. "If you need me …"

"I'll find you," he promised, giving her a slight smile.

"Good."

"I'll see you when I see you," he said as she started to walk away.

Sara stopped and turned slowly. Had he realized what she had wanted to say when she had said that to him earlier? Deciding that he likely had, and was using it in a similar way, she smiled. "I'll see you when I see you," she echoed.

She could have danced out of his office.

* * *

Sara's search led her to a vintage clothing store that specialized in Victorian-era attire. Feeling that it was the most likely place that their headless victim had frequented, she made it her first stop.

Mr. Felippe was more than happy to show off the store's corset collection. He gave her a lengthy description of one of their whale-boned corsets, ending by stating that "they don't make them like this anymore."

"I'm sure the whales appreciate that," Sara said, smiling slightly. "How many, if any, do you sell to men?"

"More than you'd think," he said. "Many men with back problems have remarked how much better a bone tabbed Elizabethan corset feels than a steel back brace."

"Oh," Sara said. "Let's focus on your customers that don't have back problems."

"Miss Sidle, people's private lives are their own business," Mr. Felippe said. "I don't –"

"Mr. Felippe," she interrupted, "I have a dead man with a nineteen inch waist and no way to identify him. _Any_ help at all would be appreciated."

"Do you have a picture?" he asked.

"I have a head shot," Sara said, thinking that Greg would have been impressed by the straight face she managed to keep.

Mr. Felippe nodded, waiting for her to produce the picture.

Sara flipped through her file until she came upon the picture of their victim's head. Mr. Felippe stared at it, his breathing becoming labored.

"Oh, my God," he said. "That's – uh – that's Caleb Carson. He comes in once a year for a restitch and a reinforcement."

"Is he into pain?" Sara asked. "Masochism?"

"I don't know."

"How about cross dressing?"

"I – I seriously doubt that."

"How come?"

"Mr. Carson never spoke much, but was the type of man, who, when he came in to the store, if I were sitting down, I immediately stood up. He treated me like a servant, and, truth be told, he actually made me feel like one."

Sara gave him a compassionate look. "I'm gonna need his address," she said.

Mr. Felippe nodded and led her to the desk.

"Thank you," Sara said as he searched his records.

"Do you know what happened to him?" he asked.

"Not yet. We're trying to piece it together."

Mr. Felippe passed her a slip of paper. "This is the address I have on file."

"Thank you, Mr. Felippe," Sara said. "You've been very helpful."

"If you need anything else …"

"I'll call." She gave him her business card. "If you think of anything that might help …"

He nodded and tucked the card into his jacket pocket.

* * *

Armed with a name and address for their victim, Sara, Grissom and Sofia went to his house. There they learned that Mr. Carson was a true son of the south. He was devoted to the Civil War; his house contained memorabilia ranging from portraits and photographs to guns and bullets. Grissom was fascinated by a miniature battlefield that represented the Battle of Gettysburg. He was studying it when Sofia returned from taking a phone call.

"Warrick just called from the hospital," she said quietly. "They got the bullet."

"How's he doing?" Grissom asked, looking away from the tiny soldier he was holding.

Sofia shook her head. "He hasn't regained consciousness yet."

Not wanting to think about it, Grissom redirected his attention to the soldier in his hand. "This fellow seems to have lost his way."

Sofia studied the scene before them. "Is this Gettysburg?"

Grissom was impressed. "You into military history?"

"My dad was," she corrected. "Used to spend the summer touring Pennsylvania in an RV so I could learn things."

Grissom smiled slightly. "You were a lucky girl."

Sofia chuckled. She wasn't sure she was completely willing to agree with Grissom's assessment of her childhood.

They discussed the battle scene for a few moments. Grissom reasserted Sara and Sofia's initial observation that Carson had been a true Confederate.

"So, aside from explaining where the killer got the bullet that found its way into his head, how does all of this translate to him being decapitated by a train?" Sofia asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Grissom said honestly. He glanced around. "Where's Sara?"

"She was going to process the bedrooms."

Grissom nodded. "Let's go see what she's found."

They found Sara in Mr. Carson's bedroom, standing beside a corset on a mannequin. She was fingerprinting the back of it; because it laced up the back, he had obviously had help in putting it on.

"That's a very good friend who'd be willing to do this for him," Sofia said. She made a face. "Can you imagine tying a corset every morning? He was essentially torturing Mr. Carson." She paused. "Did I say good friend? Maybe it's a good _enemy_ who'd be willing to do this."

Sara shook her head. "I am so glad I was born in the twentieth century."

"That makes two of us," Sofia said.

Sara pulled a last tape lift from the corset. "I'll process the prints when we get back to the lab, and call you with any matches," she said.

Sofia nodded. "Works for me. Are we done here?"

"For now," Grissom said. "I'm not ready to release the scene just yet."

"Okay," Sofia agreed, already on her way out the door. "I'll be in touch."

Sara glanced at Grissom with a raised eyebrow and began to put away her printing materials. "Would you like me better with a nineteen inch waist?"

"Would you lace a corset for me every morning?" he shot back.

Sara laughed. "Why do we always get the cases involving the ones who like to dress up?"

Grissom smiled and shook his head. "I guess we're just lucky." He paused. "Sofia said that Warrick called. Jim's out of surgery."

Sara's head snapped up, her eyes wide with unspoken questions.

"They got the bullet, but he's still unconscious."

Sara sighed. "I guess we're halfway there."

"But, not out of the woods just yet."

"No," she agreed.

Grissom hesitated. "I'm going to go call Warrick. See if he's heard anything more."

Sara nodded. "I'll finish up in here. Meet you at the car?"

"Yeah."

Grissom walked outside, pulling out his phone as he went. He dialed Warrick's number, and listened to it ring twice before Warrick picked up.

"Hi, Griss. I just talked to Sofia –"

"I know," Grissom interrupted. "She was at a scene with Sara and me."

"Oh. So, then you know that Brass is out of surgery."

"Yeah. She said that he's still unconscious?"

"Yeah, he is." Warrick exhaled. "They got the bullet, so they're saying the surgery was a success."

"When do they expect him to regain consciousness?"

"I don't really know yet," Warrick said, his voice trailing off slightly, as though something had caught his attention. "You know what? Let me call you back."

"Sure," Grissom agreed, a bit confused.

Sara came out of the house carrying her kit and several evidence bags. Grissom slipped his phone into his pocket and hurried to help her.

"Thanks," she said as he grabbed the bags. "I was afraid I'd drop everything. What did Warrick have to say about Brass?"

"Nothing we didn't already know," Grissom replied, putting the bags down in the trunk. "He said he'd call me back."

As if on cue, Grissom's phone began to ring. He tossed Sara the keys and grabbed his phone.

"Hi, Warrick."

"Sorry about that," he said. "I saw Ellie hanging around and wanted to say hi."

"How's she doing with everything?"

"Making it about her, as usual," Warrick said. "I'll say this for her, though: She's definitely cleaned herself up since the last time I saw her."

Grissom grimaced at the thought of what she must have looked like back then. "Has she been to see Jim yet?"

"No. I don't know what good it would do now, though. I don't think they're letting anyone in the room just yet."

"Oh."

"I don't know, Griss," Warrick said. "She just … needs to know that he cares, I guess. She asked me if he ever talked about her."

"And you said …?"

"Nothing … which answered her question pretty well." He sighed. "That girl is so insecure. It's like dealing with a twelve-year-old trapped in an adult's body."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "Okay, Warrick, I think I know what needs to be done."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm going to make sure she knows that Jim does care about her."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I have a plan."

"I trust you," Warrick said. "I'm going to go back inside and see how he's doing."

"All right. Call me if there's any change."

"Will do."

"Thanks, Warrick."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Sara glanced at Grissom as he closed his phone. "What are you going to do with Ellie?"

"I'm going to bring her in and show her the picture Jim has on his desk. It's of her, when she was a little girl."

Sara smiled. "She'll like that."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, "I think she will."

* * *

Sara's fingerprint from the corset yielded results. Sofia found herself questioning Gregory Kimble, who proclaimed himself to be Mr. Carson's driver. When Sofia mentioned that his fingerprints had been found on a corset, Mr. Kimble continued to say that he was Mr. Carson's dresser. He helped him with his corset every morning. He admitted that it was agonizingly painful for Mr. Carson, but said that his employer dealt with the pain.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Sofia asked.

"Yesterday morning," Mr. Kimble replied.

"At the house?"

"No. At a duel."

Sofia raised her eyebrows. "A duel? Where?"

"Gettysburg."

Her eyebrows shot up, then settled back into position. "You're talking about a Civil War reenactment, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Can you tell me where it was?"

"Of course."

* * *

"Hey, Sara, I need your help."

Sara put down her sandwich and looked up as Grissom came into the break room, his eyes lit up with excitement. She smiled.

"Okay. What's up?"

"We need to have a duel."

Sara laughed. "You know, Griss, I'm sorry, but I left my sword at home today."

He sat down. "As it happens, Mr. Carson was a Civil War reenactor.'

"You don't say," Sara said, grinning.

"Sofia and I just went to the battlefield to talk to anyone who saw Mr. Carson yesterday. We learned that he was involved in a duel with another reenactor. I'd like to reconstruct it to make sure that the duelist was telling me the truth."

"What did he say happened?"

"Mr. Carson overheard him talking on his cell phone, which disgraced the memory of those who fought at Gettysburg. Mr. Carson was highly offended, and challenged Mr. Oliver – who, I might add, plays a Union soldier – to a duel. They went to the 'field of honor,' paced off …"

"And?" Sara asked. "Don't stop now! You're at the best part."

Grissom grinned. "I guess I've picked up your suspense-building technique."

"Stop talking to Mary," Sara said, giving him a playful shove. "Finish the story!"

Grissom cleared his throat. "Well, Mr. Oliver said that he expected that they would pace off, shoot some powder at one another and go out for breakfast. Mr. Carson, however, had actual bullets loaded in his gun, and shot Mr. Oliver. His injuries are very real; his arm is in a sling."

"So, wait," Sara said. "Mr. Carson had real bullets in his gun, but Mr. Oliver didn't?"

"It sort of goes against what reenactors do to carry real bullets," Grissom said. "Still, Bobby has Mr. Oliver's gun – just to make sure."

"Hm," Sara said. "So you want to reconstruct the duel … why?"

He grinned. "Really, we just need to pace it off and then collect evidence."

"Oh, no," Sara said with a smile. "You challenged me to a duel, and a duel we shall have."

"You want to shoot me?" he teased.

"I most certainly do," Sara replied. She grinned. "I don't have nearly enough pictures of you."

"A camera duel?"

"What else?"

He grinned. "Come on, then. To the field of honor."

* * *

Grissom took Sara to the field where Gettysburg was being recreated. Although the reenactors were gone for the day, it was still clear what they had done. Sara shook her head as she looked around.

"I just don't get this," she said.

"Well, I'd doubt that they get your penchant for reading about decomposing bodies," Grissom said. "We're all odd in our own ways, Sara."

She shook her head again. "So, where was this duel?"

"Over here," he said, leading her to the field of honor.

They put their kits down at the edge of the field, both taking out their cameras. Grissom took her to the center point.

"This is where Mr. Oliver said they started. He went that way, and Mr. Carson went this way."

"So, we have to stand back to back, right?" Sara asked.

"Right."

She grinned and turned away from him. Seeing that she was ready to being, Grissom turned, pressing his back against hers.

"Ready?" Sara asked, raising her camera.

"Ready," Grissom affirmed.

They both started forward, calling the numbers between one and ten with each step they took. When they reached ten, they whipped around, each taking a picture of the other. Both realized in a moment that Sara has won the race; Grissom smiled in cheerful defeat, and she grinned back in the glory of victory.

After sharing a look, they both turned to survey their surroundings. Sara immediately noticed blood covering the leaves that had fallen to the ground.

"I've got blood drops heading away from Mr. Carson," she called, taking pictures. "Consistent with the duelist's story."

"I've got something here, too," Grissom said, photographing the blood pool at his feet. "This could be the blood we didn't find at the train tracks; it's a lot of blood!" He looked up. "Maybe Carson was killed here."

Sara looked up from her position crouched over the blood drops in front of her. "You have Oliver's gun, right?"

"Yeah, Bobby's working on it," he replied. He shook his head. "It almost doesn't make sense, though. If he shot Oliver when they were twenty paces apart, how did Oliver manage to shoot Carson under his chin like that?"

Sara shook her head. "I think I'm giving up on _anything_ in this case making sense."

Grissom smiled. "Have patience, my dear. It'll come together in the end."

"It always does."

* * *

It was Wendy who provided the information that led them to Mr. Carson's killer. She was able to confirm Grissom's theory that the blood from the field of honor belonged to Mr. Carson. The toupee, however, did not.

Sara entered Grissom's office to find Sofia giggling while Grissom smiled. She frowned slightly.

"Did I miss something?"

"We've used a toupee to find our probable killer," Grissom said.

"Men should just lose their hair gracefully," Sofia said, bringing herself under control. "Once it's on its way out, just shave off what's left and move on. None of this toupee thing for me."

"You say that because you have hair," Grissom teased.

"So do you," she replied. "Okay, I'm going to call Mr. Kimble back in. We'll get a warrant for his toupee and see if that's enough to scare him into confessing. Wanna come along?"

"No, thanks," Grissom said. "I have another experiment in the works."

"All right. Sara?"

Sara looked at Grissom questioningly. "Do you need my help with anything?" she asked.

"No, I'll be fine. You go with Sofia to question Mr. Kimble."

Sofia nodded. "I'll call you when he gets here."

"Okay," Sara replied.

Sofia left the office, and Sara turned to Grissom.

"What's going on?"

He sighed and stepped past her to close his office door. "I spoke to Nick earlier. He said that Ellie had been to see Brass. They're still not letting anyone in the room, but the fact that she's there, sitting outside his room, watching him through the observation windows, means a lot."

"This is good," Sara agreed.

"Yeah," Grissom said. "But, Sofia just told me that Ellie called payroll to ask about what she stands to gain if Jim doesn't make it."

Sara flinched. "No."

He nodded. "I think … that I need to talk to her."

"Yeah," Sara sighed, "I think you do, too." She glanced at his computer screen. "Gunshot wounds?"

"Yeah," Grissom said. He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Do you think that I made the right decision?"

Sara looked straight into his eyes. "I think you made the _only_ decision. How could you have refused the surgery? How could you tell Ellie that, as her dad lay dying, you chose to do nothing?" She put her hands on either side of his face. "Gil, if you had said no, you'd never have forgiven yourself. You'd spend the rest of your life asking yourself 'what if?'."

"But, I'm doing that already," he nearly whispered. He leaned forward until his forehead was touching hers. "What if he strokes out? What if he –?"

Sara shook her head. "You gave him a fighting chance, Gil. The rest is up to him. And, if I know Jim Brass, he's going to pick up that chance and run with it."

Grissom tilted his head slightly to kiss her. "Thank you."

She released his face and wrapped her arms around his neck. "We'll make it through this. All of us."

He hugged her tightly, burying his face in her hair. "I don't know how I'd make it through this without you."

Sara held him until he pulled back. He gave her a slight smile.

"Thanks," he said again.

Sara leaned up and kissed him. "Anytime."

Her phone vibrated, announcing a text message. She picked it up to read quickly.

"It's from Sofia," she said. "Our suspect is en route."

"Go ahead," Grissom said.

"You'll be all right?" she asked, hesitating slightly.

"I'll be fine. I'm going to have Ellie brought in. See if that picture doesn't change her mind about her dad."

Sara nodded. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Sara gave him a smile and made her way to the door. "I'll see you when I see you," she said quietly as she opened it.

Grissom smiled. "I'll see you when I see you," he echoed.

Sara smiled one last time, then left the office. It was time for an interrogation.

* * *

While Sara and Sofia were listening to Mr. Kimble's account of how he had accidentally shot Mr. Carson while wrestling his gun away from him before he could kill Mr. Oliver, Grissom stood in Brass's office, waiting for Ellie. He heard her before he saw her, berating Officer Metcalf as he escorted her down the hall. They reached Brass's office; Ellie paused in the doorway, clearly surprised to see Grissom waiting for her.

"Hi," he said. "Come in."

Ellie stepped into the office and looked around.

"This is your dad's office," Grissom said.

"Yeah, I can read," Ellie replied, looking at the nameplate on his desk.

Grissom nodded slightly. "Have a seat," he said, indicating Jim's chair.

"Why?" Ellie asked.

"Why not?"

Ellie looked at him for a moment, then sauntered around Jim's desk. She sat down in his chair and slowly put her feet up on the desk. She stared straight at Grissom, obviously daring him to look at her long legs. He never took his eyes from her face. He raised an eyebrow slightly as she made herself comfortable and looked at the desk.

Her eyes finally fell on the picture of herself. In the snapshot, the little girl that Ellie had been was sitting on the floor, coloring. She had turned to smile at the camera, her crayon still held in her hand.

"Oh," she exclaimed softly, smiling for the first time since Grissom had seen her. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth as a truly tender look crossed her features. "Oh," she murmured again. "Oh, wow."

She took her feet from the desk and sat upright to get a better look at the picture.

"That's the reason we asked you to come in," Grissom said.

"That's like loving a puppy," Ellie said, looking away from the picture to make eye contact with Grissom, "that's easy."

Grissom held her eyes silently.

"You know, did you ever think maybe he's better off just lying there? And not waking up? Man, it'd be a lot easier."

Her words triggered something in Grissom. A spark of anger jumped into his eyes.

"Ellie, I don't know what to do to make you see how much your dad loves you," he said. "It's not about how many pictures he has of you or how much he talks about you. We just … we don't do that here. We're not in our offices all that much. We don't have that much time to talk about our families. We respect one another's privacy." He shook his head. "We don't really _share_." He shrugged. "It's not who I am. And, it's not who your dad is, either."

"You don't get it," Ellie said mutinously.

"You're right," Grissom conceded, "I don't. I don't get it because my dad died in his sleep when I was nine. I never had the chance to know him as an adult. I never had the chance to say good bye. I never had the chance to tell him I loved him one last time. Now, I'm not saying that your dad is going to die, but … I'm also not guaranteeing that he's going to live. He still hasn't regained consciousness, and … I really think that it would mean a lot if you'd give him some love and support, rather than just waiting around for him to die so you can collect his insurance money."

Ellie's eyes snapped up to meet his. "Is that why you think I'm here?"

Grissom shrugged. "Prove me wrong."

"I don't need to prove anything to you." She got up from behind the desk. "I need to get back to the hospital. My dad needs me."

"Great. I was just headed to the hospital myself. I'll drive you."

"I don't need a ride."

"Yes, you do. Officer Metcalf brought you here."

She stared at him, knowing that he was right.

"Come on."

Resigning herself to accepting his help, she followed Grissom to his car.

* * *

The ride to the hospital was silent. After Grissom's reprimand, Ellie was not inclined to talk to him, and he was not inclined to draw her out. They maintained their silence as they walked into the hospital and through its sterile halls to Jim's room. As they approached, they could hear alarms going off.

One look of terror passed between them, and they both took off, making it down the hall in record time. Catherine was standing outside Jim's room, watching in shock as the doctors did their best to bring him back.

Grissom slid to a stop beside her. She looked at him in disbelief for a brief moment before her eyes returned to the scene playing out before them. On his other side, Ellie grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. He glanced back to see the true horror on her face.

In those moments, as they watched Jim's very real struggle for his life, Ellie finally got it. She finally understood what they had been trying to tell her all along: that her father could die. That every moment, every breath could be his last.

Finally, after a minute that took a lifetime, the alarms stopped and the beeping of the machines returned to normal.

"We're back," one of the doctors proclaimed.

Jim's head slid to the side and his eyes blinked open. He focused on Ellie, his daughter, standing outside his hospital room, looking more scared than he had ever seen her. He tried to reach out to her, wanting to tell her that everything would be fine. She stared at him, her mouth dropping slightly open, and shook her head. Then, as if she had been a dream, she vanished.

Grissom felt her release his sleeve, and looked to his right. Ellie was gone. Completely confused, he looked back at Jim, whose eyes were sliding closed again.

"Oh, God," Catherine murmured. She brought her hands up over her face. "That was the scariest thing I've ever seen."

Grissom put his arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture. She leaned into him, burying her face in his shoulder. They stayed like that until Brass's doctor came out to talk to them.

"Everything looks good," Dr. Jordan said, looking rather relieved to be able to tell them such positive news.

"I saw his eyes open," Catherine said. "Does that mean anything?"

"It's a bit early to tell for sure," Dr. Jordan said. "It could mean he's coming back, or it could have been a reflex. The next few hours should tell us more."

"Thanks, Doctor," Grissom said.

"If you leave the hospital, Dr. Grissom, I'll call with any changes," he promised.

"Thank you," Grissom said again.

Dr. Jordan walked away, and Catherine looked around.

"Wasn't Ellie with you? Where did she go?"

"I have no idea," Grissom said honestly. "One minute, she's clutching my sleeve, the next, she's gone."

Catherine frowned. "I don't get that girl."

"She's scared, Catherine," Grissom said slowly, "just like the rest of us."

"Well, the rest of us didn't run out when Jim needed us."

"People deal with grief different ways," Grissom said. "You know that."

"Yeah," she sighed, "I do." She glanced at her watch. "Are you still on the clock?"

"Yeah," he said, suddenly feeling very tired. "I need to get back to the lab."

Catherine nodded. "I'll call you if there's any change."

"Thanks, Cath."

"No problem."

Grissom nodded and began his slow progress out of the hospital. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay with his friend.

_Sara is at the lab_.

The promise of seeing Sara was enough to speed his progress. After something like this, he desperately needed to talk to her.

* * *

Sara was sitting in his office when he arrived. She smiled brightly at him.

"Hey," she said cheerfully. "How did it go with Ellie?"

He shook his head as he sat down next to her. "Not yet. Tell me about your interrogation."

Sara grinned. "Well, as it turns out, Mr. Kimble did kill Mr. Carson, although it was an accident. He said that Mr. Carson wanted to actually kill Mr. Oliver in the duel. Mr. Kimble was shocked, terrified … he tried to grab the gun. Over the course of the struggle, Mr. Carson was shot."

"Why didn't Mr. Kimble call the police if it was an accident?"

"He didn't want Mr. Carson to be found with his corset on. He said that it was private."

"Okay," Grissom said slowly. "How do the train tracks figure in to this?"

Sara shook her head. "Apparently, one of Mr. Carson's ancestors died while standing on the train tracks, firing his gun in an effort to stop a Yankee train. Obviously, the train won that round. Mr. Carson thought this was an honorable death. Mr. Kimble was trying to give him the same … honor?"

Grissom shook his head. "Well, I suppose his heart was in the right place."

"I guess," Sara said, shaking her own head. "Sofia and I finished the final report. I put it in your inbox."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." She looked at him closely. "Are you ready to tell me about Ellie?"

He drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "She's scared, Sara."

"We all are," Sara said softly.

"Yeah, but …" He looked away for a moment. "I had her brought to Jim's office, like I had planned. She saw the picture."

"And?"

"At first, she seemed touched," he said, looking back at Sara again. "Then, she said something about it being easy to love a little girl. Like loving a puppy, she said."

Sara's eyes widened. "I never thought …"

"I didn't, either. Then, she … Sara, she said that she thought it would be better if Jim just stayed as he was, lying in a hospital bed, unaware of anything happening around him."

Sara flinched as though she had been slapped. "What?" she whispered.

"I snapped, Sara."

"What did you say?"

"I don't remember, exactly. Something about how much Jim loves her, even if he doesn't talk about her all the time. And about how lucky she is to still have a father. About how much he needs her love and support. That she should be here for _him_, not for his pension check."

"You didn't."

"I did," Grissom sighed. "Then, I took her to the hospital." His face crumpled slightly. "Jim was … fading, I guess. When we got there, all these alarms were going off, and an army of doctors and nurses was in the room, trying to bring him back."

Sara's heart jumped to her throat. "Gil …?"

"He's okay," he said quickly. "As he was before. Unconscious, but okay."

Sara exhaled. "Thank God."

"I saw Ellie's face as we stood there," Grissom said quietly. "She was clutching my sleeve as though her life depended on it, staring at Jim. I could see what was going on in her mind. Right then, she fully understood how serious this is. And, she was terrified."

"Is she with Jim now?"

Grissom shook his head. "I don't know where she is. Once it was all over, Jim opened his eyes and looked at her. Something about that was too much for her, I guess, because she let go of my sleeve and disappeared."

"So, she could still be in the hospital?"

"Or, she could be on the next bus back to LA. I have no idea what happened to her. But, right now…I can't really make myself care."

"Good."

Grissom stared at her in surprise.

"You've spent far too much time worrying about Ellie," Sara said. "You're not her guardian, Gil. She's not your responsibility. Jim is. Focus on him."

Grissom nodded slowly.

His cell phone began to ring, ending their conversation. He answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Grissom."

"Gil, it's me," Catherine said, her voice shaking with excitement. "Jim's waking up!"

"What?" Grissom exclaimed.

"You've got to get over here." She paused. "Shift's ending in a few minutes. Bring everyone!"

"I will," he promised. "I'll see you soon."

He closed the phone and looked at Sara, who was staring at him with questions in her eyes. He grinned at her.

"Jim's waking up. We've got to get to the hospital."

* * *

The entire graveyard shift, as well as half the police force, assembled outside Brass's hospital room for the moment when he'd be able to see them again. They all wanted him to know how much they loved him.

Because he held power of attorney, Grissom was allowed in the room with him. He stood next to the bed, watching as Brass slowly opened his eyes.

"Hey," he breathed, struggling to focus.

"Hey," Grissom replied, smiling down at him. He offered him the plastic cup in his hands. "Have some water."

"Yeah," Brass said, reaching for the straw that Grissom positioned near his mouth and taking an awkward sip of water. He finally pushed the straw aside. "Thanks for not pulling the plug."

Grissom smiled. "Your … um … fan club is here." He inclined his head toward the windows.

Brass looked past Grissom to see his "fan club." Catherine was grinning like a fool, waving madly at him. Doc Robbins smiled his gentle smile and Greg was grinning as they took turns hugging Catherine. Sara stood between Warrick and Nick with tears streaming down her face. As Jim made eye contact with her, Sara threw herself into Warrick's arms. Warrick held Sara tightly with one arm while the other reached out to grab Nick's shoulder. Brass smiled.

Grissom looked down at him and exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "Jim, promise me something."

"Anything."

"Don't ever scare us like that again."

Jim smiled slightly. "Sorry about that."

Dr. Jordan walked in to the room. "Hello, gentlemen. Dr. Grissom, I think Captain Brass has had enough quality time with you for tonight."

"All right," Grissom agreed. "I'll be back to see you tomorrow, Jim. Maybe Dr. Jordan will even let me bring a friend."

"Maybe," Dr. Jordan smiled.

"Better make it Catherine," Jim said. "I don't think she'll forgive you otherwise."

Grissom smiled. "You've got it."

"Good night," Brass said, his eyes sliding closed again.

"Good night," Grissom replied.

He walked back out in to the hallway, where he was besieged by what felt like a thousand questions. He held up his hands for quiet.

"Brass is resting comfortably for now," he said. "Dr. Jordan said no more visitors for tonight."

Their minds put to rest, the fan club slowly began to disperse. Finally, only Grissom, Sara, Nick, Warrick, Greg and Catherine remained.

"I told Jim I'd bring you in to see him tomorrow, Cath," Grissom said.

Catherine grinned. "I can't wait." She glanced at her watch and closed her eyes. "Lindsey. I've got to get home to get her on the bus."

"I'll walk out with you," Greg volunteered.

"Me, too," Warrick said, releasing Sara's hand for the first time since she had hugged him. "You gonna be okay, little girl?"

"Yeah," she said. "I think I just need to see him sleep for a minute."

"Want me to wait with you?" Nick asked.

"No, you go home," Sara said. "I know you're tired."

"You're sure?" Nick asked, standing up.

"I'm going to stay a bit longer, too," Grissom said. "You're not leaving her alone."

Nick and Warrick exchanged a glance, then looked back at Grissom.

"Take care of our girl," Nick said.

"I will," Grissom replied, taking the seat that Warrick had vacated.

Sara smiled at them. "I'll be fine, guys. I promise."

"Okay. Call if you need us."

"I will."

Finally convinced that Sara would be all right without them, Nick and Warrick both paused to kiss her forehead, then followed Catherine and Greg out of the hospital. Once she was sure they were gone, Sara leaned her head against Grissom's shoulder.

"It's over, isn't it?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's over." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "He's going to be fine."

Sara exhaled and nodded against his shoulder. "Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked quietly.

"Of course."

It wasn't until they had reached Grissom's car that it truly hit Sara: Brass was going to be fine. She turned to Grissom and, to his great surprise, threw her arms around him.

"He made it!" she exclaimed.

Grissom laughed and hugged her close. "He made it," he confirmed.

Sara began to kiss him, haphazardly planting kisses all over his face. "You were right," she said between kisses. "You knew he'd make it. You let him live."

Grissom laughed again. "Calm down, sweetheart."

"No," she said, kissing him fully on the mouth.

The kiss nearly took Grissom's breath away. He backed up against the car, pulling her with him as he continued to kiss her. He finally pulled away.

"Sara …"

"I need you," she whispered, kissing him again.

"Sara, we're in a parking lot," he murmured. "Let me take you home, okay?"

She finally pulled back. "You'd better drive fast."

He grinned. "You've got it."

* * *

Sara was already in action as they walked through her front door, shrugging her jacket off, grabbing Grissom, pulling him inside, tugging at his belt.

"Slow down," he laughed. "We've got all night."

"Don't wanna wait," she said, kissing him again.

He pulled away from the kiss and started to lead her to the bedroom. Sara shook her head.

"Too far away."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. Sara grinned, grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch. She began to kiss him again, and pulled him down onto it with her.

"This will do," he murmured, attacking her neck with his lips.

Sara laughed. "For sure."

* * *

Later, Grissom smiled up at her. "Feel better?"

She smiled lazily. "What do you think?"

"I think that you're amazing."

"So are you." She leaned down to kiss him. "Wanna take this party to the bedroom?"

"I wanted to do that ages ago," he grinned. "_Someone_ said that it was too far away."

Sara laughed. "It was, then. We can make it that far now."

They climbed off the couch and walked straight past their clothes to Sara's bedroom. Sara grabbed her robe from the bed and pulled it on.

"Brass is lucky, huh?" she said.

"Definitely," Grissom said, opening "his" drawer in her dresser to find his pajamas.

"You know, I had sort of forgotten how dangerous this job can be," Sara said as she walked toward the bathroom. "I'm starting to think that I should have a will."

"You don't have one?"

"You do?" she called back.

"Of course. Don't you think it's better to be prepared?"

"I guess I never felt a need," she said, turning on the water to brush her teeth. "I'm only just getting over the idea that I'm not immortal."

"Yeah," Grissom sighed. "Something like this will do that to you."

"Uh-huh," Sara agreed, spitting toothpaste in to the sink.

Already in his pajamas, Grissom lay across her bed while she finished her bathroom ritual.

"I don't know," he said, suddenly introspective. "Most people want to die in their sleep, I suppose. Never know that it's happening. Like a crime scene. Surprise! You're dead. I'd prefer to know in advance that I was going to die. I'd like to be diagnosed with cancer actually … have some time to prepare." He sighed. "Go back to the rainforest one more time. Reread _Moby Dick_. Possibly enter an international chess tournament. At least have enough time to say good bye to the people I love."

Sara walked back in to the bedroom and knelt down next to the bed. She leaned forward, a smile tugging at her lips. "I'm not ready to say good bye."

Grissom smiled. He wasn't, either.


	59. Visitors

A/N: So, I set out to write a cute, fluffy little chapter. What I ended up with is a cute, fluffy LONG chapter. It's a little longer than the last one, if you can believe that. If you're trying to plan out your time … you're going to need a little while to read this one. I'd say sorry, but … I think you'll like it. At least, I hope you will.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Visitors_

"Okay," Sara said, eyeing her closed refrigerator door, "this is it. A battle to the death. I know it's been a few months since I did this, but that is no reason for the smell in this kitchen. You need to learn to preserve things better, or else …" She held up a can of cleanser. "I borrowed this from the lab. We will have no more of these incidents."

With a flourish, she threw open the door and immediately gagged.

"Good lord! What did I _put_ in here?"

Sara threw the trash can between her and the refrigerator, and began tossing everything that looked suspiciously rotten into it. Anything that she thought she could salvage was placed into a cooler full of ice. Once the fridge was empty and the trash bag tossed down the chute in the hallway, she attacked the refrigerator shelves and walls with the lab-strength cleanser.

She had just finished her first wipe-down of the fridge when her phone started to ring. Figuring that a break from the fumes that accompanied the cleanser wasn't such a bad idea, she abandoned her project to take the call. She flipped the phone open without looking at the screen.

"Sidle."

"Hey, Sara."

"Mary!" Sara exclaimed. "Hi!"

Mary laughed. "You sound cheerful. Brass is doing better?"

"Yeah," Sara said, her relief evident in her voice. "In fact, he's being released from the hospital today. Griss went to help him get set up at home."

"Who's staying with him?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said he's divorced, so I assumed he lives alone," Mary explained. "I can't imagine he'd be able to do everything on his own already."

"Oh, right," Sara said. She smirked. "The city is paying for in-home nursing care. Personally, I think they're hoping Brass doesn't sue."

"On what grounds? He's a cop; he had to know there was a chance he'd be shot on the job."

"Oh, I know that and you know that," Sara chuckled. "But, to the city, they see a cop who was shot because a negotiator was late arriving at a scene. Somehow, the city solicitor has deemed this reason enough that they could be sued. Believe me, they're doing their best to make sure that Brass is quite comfortable."

Mary laughed. "Well, I suppose that's a good thing. At least he'll have proper care."

"Yeah," Sara said. She bit her lip, then decided to admit her feelings to her best friend. "I was sort of afraid Griss would have to take care of him," she said in a rush.

"Grissom … Sara, come on. You know that wouldn't work. When would he have the time?"

"I know," Sara said. "We work ridiculous hours, and when we're not at work … well, let's just say that I like seeing my boyfriend outside the office."

Mary giggled. "Yeah, Sara, I can see how your friend nearly dying could cause serious problems for you and your sex life."

"Stop making me sound selfish."

"I'm sorry," Mary said. "It's just …"

"I haven't told anyone else," Sara said. "I'm having trouble admitting it to myself. I know that I'm being selfish about this, okay? And, to tell the truth, I know that every single one of us would have been right there with Grissom, taking a shift at Brass's house. I'm just relieved that it worked out so that none of us needs to worry."

"I'm sorry. I'll stop mocking you. To be honest, I'd be relieved if I were in your position, too. It's tough looking after someone post-surgery."

"Especially _this_ someone," Sara said with a smile. "Brass is one tough man. I'd hate to be the one to tell him he had to rest when he didn't want to."

"So, Brass is recovering nicely," Mary said. "How about you?"

"I'm … good," Sara said, feeling a deep happiness seep through her with the admission. "So is Gil. We really … I don't know what to say. I think that, after this experience, I feel even closer to him. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Mary said. "I think it would take your emotional bonds to a whole new level."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "That about sums it up." She paused. "How are _you_? I feel like we've been talking about me forever."

"Oh, I'm fine," Mary said. "Trying to keep up with my baby now that she can walk … applying for teaching positions for the fall … planning a trip to Vegas …"

"What?" Sara gasped. "Mary, tell me you are not joking!"

Mary laughed. "Come on, Sar. Even I'm not that cruel."

"Oh my God!" Sara exclaimed. "When are you coming?"

"In two weeks," Mary said.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because I didn't know for sure until this morning that we were coming. Tom has the time off, but we were working on a budget and travel costs … then, we found a fantastic flight and hotel package today and jumped on it."

"Mary! Where are you staying?"

"The Bellagio."

"Whoa, high roller!" Sara laughed. "I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with you."

"Sara, if you knew how cheaply I got this room …"

Sara laughed again. "Look, spend thousands if you want. I don't care! I can't believe you're going to be here in two weeks!"

"We come in on Thursday afternoon and leave on Tuesday morning," Mary said. "Any chance you have any of those days off?"

"I don't remember, to be honest," Sara said. "But, I'm sure I can work something out with my supervisor."

"I'm sure the promise of sexual favors won't hurt," Mary said slyly.

Sara laughed, then heaved a mock sigh of despair. "If that's what it takes, I suppose I could go that route."

"Don't pimp yourself out on my account," Mary laughed.

"Oh, no," Sara said with a grin. "I'll do that on my own account."

* * *

"Sara?" Grissom called as he walked into her apartment. "Are you home?"

"Yeah!" Sara called. "I'm in the bathroom!"

"Okay!" Grissom called back.

He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator in search of a bottle of water. While her fridge was immaculately clean – he coughed as the strong smell of cleanser hit him in the face – it was empty.

"Sara? What happened to all your food?"

"It's in the cooler," Sara said, right behind him.

Grissom jumped and turned around. "Where did you come from?"

"Shower," she replied, tightening the tie of her robe and pulling her wet hair off her shoulders. "I had just gotten out when you came in."

"Sweetheart, you could have gotten dressed and dried your hair. I can entertain myself for a few minutes."

"But, I want to hear about Jim," she said. "And, I have news for you."

"What's your news?"

She shook her head. "Tell me about Jim first."

"He's doing great," Grissom replied, opening the cooler and searching for a bottle of water. "He seems really glad to be home."

"I'm sure he is," Sara said, leading the way into the living room. "How's his nurse?"

"She's sweet," Grissom said. He smiled as he joined her on the couch. "And, tough enough to put up with him."

"There's the important part," Sara grinned.

"So, what's your news?" Grissom asked.

Sara grinned. "Mary just called. She, Tom and Josie are coming out for a visit."

"Really?" Grissom exclaimed, a smile spreading across his face. "When?"

"In two weeks. They'll be here from Thursday till Tuesday."

"A long weekend."

"Yeah. She said Tom had the time off and they found a package deal."

"That's great. It'll be good to see them again."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I've been thinking …"

"About what?"

"Well, I'm sure they'll want to see everyone. Mary met the team when she was here before, and Tom's heard enough about them that he'll hate me forever if he doesn't get to meet them, so …"

Grissom rolled his eyes at her suspense-building tactic. "So-o?"

"So, I was thinking of having a dinner party."

"Here?"

"Where else?"

Grissom nodded. "That sounds nice." He smiled. "I'll even cook for you."

"You will?"

"Sure."

Sara grinned. She had been hoping he'd offer to cook. One thing she could say for her boyfriend: he was a very talented chef. "Thanks, Griss. That'd be great."

"No problem. When did you want to have this party?"

"Sunday, maybe? If everyone gets here at the right time, we'll all be well-rested, but not have to rush off to work."

"Yeah, that's a good plan. I'll give you Sunday night off so you don't have to kick Mary and Tom out before you're all ready to call it a night."

Sara smiled and ran her fingertips across his shoulder and down his arm. "Well, that's very sweet of you."

He gave her an odd look.

"I promised Mary that I'd do whatever it takes to get some time off while she's here," she said, leaning in to plant kisses along his jaw line. "Even if my supervisor asks for sexual favors."

"Oh, really?" Grissom breathed as she began to undo the buttons on his shirt.

"Mm-hm," Sara whispered against the skin of his chest as she exposed it. "So, what will it take to have Sunday off?"

"Honey, at the rate you're going, you'll have the whole _week_ off."

Sara giggled and pushed his shoulders back until he was lying down on her couch. She straddled him and grinned down at him.

"You know what? I think I'd do this for free."

"Good," he said, reaching up to undo the tie of her robe. "Because I don't think I can give you all that time off."

Sara laughed and leaned down to catch his lips in a kiss.

* * *

For two weeks, Sara could talk of nothing but Mary's impending visit. Her coworkers were excited for her, and all demanded to see Mary at some point during her stay.

"She was great when we met her before," Nick said enthusiastically, leaning his elbows on the table during their post-shift breakfast at Frank's. "Remember?"

"Yeah, she was fun," Warrick agreed, taking a sip of his coffee. "But, I think that Greg's going to take her marriage pretty hard."

"She was hot," Greg said, grinning. "Hey, Sara, does her husband have to come, too?"

Sara laughed. "He'll be here, Greg. So will her baby."

He made a face. "I was hoping to get her alone … use a little of the Sanders charm …"

"You do not possess that much charm," Catherine said, rolling her eyes.

"Catherine! That hurt!"

Catherine nudged him with her shoulder. "I love you, Greggie. You know that, right?"

"Aw, Cath, I never knew," Greg replied. He laid his head on her shoulder. "Can we be besties forever?"

"Hey!" Sara exclaimed. "I thought _I_ was your besty!"

"Only when Mary's in Boston," Greg said, sitting upright again. "When she comes into town, it's as if we never even met."

"Oh, stop," Sara laughed. "Seriously, guys, I think I want to have a dinner party so we can all get together. I'd suggest going out to a bar like we did last time, but, somehow, I don't think Mary will want to take Josie along for a night of drunken debauchery."

"Tom might," Grissom said, thinking of Mary's sarcastic husband.

Sara's eyes widened at the familiarity in his voice. "You're such a man. Who would think of something like that?"

"Hey, I'd take my kid to a bar," Greg said quickly, attempting to cover Grissom's mistake.

Realizing what he had said, Grissom smiled slightly. "If Mary can be at least a little attracted to Greg, I'm sure she'd marry a man with similar tastes."

"Yeah, but she didn't marry Greg," Nick said. "And, to be honest, I'm not all that convinced she was so attracted to him."

"You guys are wounding my pride," Greg said, clutching his hands to his heart. "Between Nick and Catherine, I'll never have the courage to date again."

"Yeah," Warrick said, snorting into his pancakes. "Picture that."

"Anyway," Sara said, shooting Greg a "thank you" look from across the table, "how does dinner at my place on Sunday night sound?"

"You have enough space for everyone?" Nick asked, knowing how small Sara's apartment was.

"It's not going to be a formal party," Sara replied. "We'll all fit."

"Well, I'm there," Catherine said. "It sounds like fun. And, I can't wait to meet this little baby."

"She's a cutie," Sara grinned. "And, Cath, before you even ask, I'm going shopping for presents for her today."

Catherine smiled. "You're learning well."

"So, Catherine's in," Sara said, looking around at the guys. "How about the rest of you?"

"Of course, I'll be there," Nick said.

"Definitely," Greg agreed.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Warrick said.

"Bring Tina," Sara encouraged. "I think Tom would be happy to know that he's not the only 'plus one' at the party."

"I'll suggest it to her," Warrick agreed, giving her a smile. "I think she'd have fun."

"Great," Sara said happily.

Catherine frowned slightly at Sara, then looked to their supervisor. "Grissom? Are you coming to Sara's party?"

Sara could have slapped her forehead. Because she and Grissom had already discussed the particulars, it hadn't occurred to her to question his attendance.

"Of course," he said with a smile. "Mary was so sweet when she was here last time." He paused and looked deep in thought for a moment. "As I recall, I had to leave early when we all went out with her before."

Sara's eyes widened yet again as the long-forgotten memory surfaced. During Mary's last visit, Grissom had indeed left early to go to a crime scene. That action had spurred Mary to advise Sara to keep him at arm's length, and to look for a man who wasn't quite so married to his job.

"That's right," she said slowly. "I had forgotten."

"Tell you what," he continued, "since I left early last time, I'll make it up to you and Mary this time. I'll bring something for dinner."

"Oh, Grissom, you don't have to do that," Sara said automatically.

"No, let him," Catherine said eagerly. "Gil's a great cook."

"Well, he's got one on me there," Sara laughed.

"What should I bring?" he asked.

"Clam sauce," Catherine said before Sara had time to react.

Grissom smiled. "Catherine loves my clam sauce."

"I'd marry it if I could," she affirmed.

"Sara?" he asked, turning his eyes on her.

"That would be great," Sara said.

Grissom smiled again. "Clam sauce it is."

"Don't worry about noodles," Sara said. "I can boil water."

Nick jabbed Warrick with his elbow. "She's got one on _you_ there."

"Hey, I don't need to cook anymore," Warrick said. "I have a wife now."

"A wife who won't let you have sugar," Sara teased.

"Ouch," Warrick said with a grin. "Tough crowd tonight."

"This morning," Catherine corrected, glancing at her watch. "I should get going, guys. My daughter will be waking up from her summer weekday morning coma anytime now."

"I miss those days," Greg said. "I should get going, too. Sara – I'm bringing hard liquor for dinner on Sunday."

"Perfect," Sara said dryly. "You can get Josie started on mixed drinks."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "I've got the wine, Sara." She glanced at Grissom. "Red sauce?"

"For you, Catherine, I wouldn't consider anything else."

"Red wine it is." She smiled. "See you guys at work tonight."

Nick and Warrick left within a few moments of Catherine and Greg, both promising to get back to Sara on what they'd bring to the party. Finally, only Sara and Grissom remained.

"You are impossible!" Sara exclaimed, smacking his arm. "How could you talk about Tom like that?"

Grissom sighed. "I'm sorry, Sara. I truly didn't think. It was just … I thought of Tom teasing you and Mary about the baby, and my first thought was that he'd say something about taking her to a bar just to get Mary to react."

"Well, I'm sure he would, but the rest of the group doesn't need to know that you know that!"

"Greg covered for me."

Sara shook her head. "I never thought I'd be glad that Greg knows about us."

"Well," Grissom said, standing up and extending his hand to help her to her feet, "shall we? I believe we have a shopping trip ahead of us."

Sara grinned. "Let's go."

Grissom exhaled. Crisis averted – and, attention diverted.

* * *

"I can't believe it," Sara muttered to herself, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she stared at the group entering baggage claim. "I can't believe they're nearly here."

She looked at her watch for the fourth time in five minutes. Leaving home early "just in case of traffic" had seemed like a brilliant plan as she had gotten into her car. However, after hitting almost every light between her apartment and McCarran on green and arriving at the airport a full half hour before Mary's flight, she was beginning to doubt her sanity.

Finally, her bouncing paid off. She could see Mary walking toward her, pulling a wheelie suitcase behind her. Sara grinned and waved.

"Mary!"

Mary gave a shriek and ran for her. Sara opened her arms and grabbed her friend into a warm, welcoming hug.

"Hi," she laughed. "Oh, Mary, I've missed you!"

"I've missed you, too." Mary glanced behind her and smiled at Tom, who had finally caught up to her.

"Hey, Sara," he smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"Hi," Sara grinned. She reached out to touch the blond curls of the little girl in his arms. "Hi, Josie," she said softly. "Do you remember me?"

"This is Aunt Sara, Josie," Mary said. "She's the one who gave you Puppy, remember?"

Sara giggled in spite of herself. "She named the dog Puppy?"

"If you want the truth, 'puppy' was her first real word after 'mama' and 'dada,'" Tom said. "She said it while grabbing the dog, so we decided it must be its name."

"Oh, of course," Sara said with a smile.

"Puppy," Josie said softly.

Mary smiled and reached into her purse. She pulled out the stuffed toy and handed it over. "It's her favorite toy," she explained as Josie took the dog and hugged it.

Sara grinned. "Well, that is good to know."

"Where's Grissom?" Tom asked, switching Josie to his other arm.

"Still at work," Sara replied. "We broke our case right before the end of shift. He stayed to do the interrogation so I could leave on time." She shook her head. "I'm just hoping that he'll leave without wrapping it. If he stays to finish everything, we won't see him till tomorrow."

Hoping that Sara was exaggerating, Mary grabbed her hand. "We should get our bags."

"Right. This way."

Once they had reached the appropriate carousel, Tom passed Josie to Mary so he could collect their bags. Sara talked to the baby while her mother held her, trying to get her to respond.

"She doesn't have an overly wide vocabulary yet," Mary said. "But, she'll babble with the best of them."

"I wish she'd babble for me," Sara sighed.

"She will," Mary assured her. "Just give her some time to warm up to you."

"All right, ladies," Tom said, joining them with two suitcases in tow. "I think we're set."

Sara eyed the large suitcases and smiled. "Staying for a month?"

"We have a baby now, Sara," Mary laughed. "Our days of traveling light are over."

"One more reason not to have children," Sara said with a smile. "You rented a car, right?"

"Yes," Tom replied.

"Right this way."

Sara led the way to the car rental counters. Again, she and Mary stayed with the luggage and the baby while Tom stood in line. When he made it to the counter, Mary's phone started to ring. She pulled it out of her purse and rolled her eyes.

"It's Tom," she said to Sara as she opened it. "Yes, dear?"

"Mar, if you want to drive this car, I need your license and your signature."

"Okay. I'm coming."

She closed the phone and turned to Sara. "I need to go help Tom. The poor thing can't even rent a car without me."

Sara smiled. "The poor thing has more advanced science degrees than I do. I'm sure he can handle it."

"Or, maybe he needs my license so I can be listed as a driver of our car," she said. She offered the baby to Sara. "Can you hold her for me? It'll only be a minute."

"Okay," Sara said a bit uncertainly, reaching out for Josie. Holding her as an infant had been one thing, but this almost-toddler was quite another.

"Here, sweetie, go say hi to Aunt Sara," Mary said as she passed her daughter to her friend. "Mommy needs to help Daddy for a minute."

Josie allowed herself to be given to Sara, who was a bit surprised by how heavy she was. She looked up at her with her big, blue eyes.

"Hey, Josie," Sara said. "It's been awhile, huh?"

Josie studied her for a moment, then reached out to grab her necklace. Mary sighed with relief.

"Good," she said. "You'll be fine. I'll be back as fast as I can."

She darted off, hoping to leave before Josie noticed that she was gone. Josie had recently entered into a "stranger danger" phase that generally meant a tantrum accompanied each exit that Mary made.

"Do you like that?" Sara asked, watching the baby study the pendant on her necklace. "It's pretty, isn't it? Grissom got it for me for Christmas. See the stone? That's called a sapphire. It's blue, just like your eyes. It's my birthstone. My birthday is in September. Yours is in May, though … I wonder what your birthstone is? See how they cut the stone? It's shaped like a flower – a gerber daisy. The very first present Grissom got me was a gerber daisy plant. Do you remember Grissom? You met him when you met me last time, when you were just a tiny baby."

Josie never took her eyes from the small flower in her hands as Sara talked. Finally finishing her visual perusal of the pendant, she put it in her mouth. Sara gasped.

"No, sweetie, you can't do that," she said, pulling the pendant out of Josie's mouth and twisting it across the chain until it hung down the back of her neck. "You could swallow it."

Josie looked at her for two seconds, then began to cry. Pure fear crossed Sara's face.

"Oh, no, Josie, don't cry! I'm sorry I took the flower away. I just don't want you to get hurt! Oh, where is your mommy?"

As Josie's cries became louder, Sara craned her neck to look for Mary and Tom. She could see them standing at the counter. Mary looked back at the sound of her baby's screams, spoke to Tom, then returned to Sara and Josie.

"Oh, my!" she said, taking Josie from Sara. "I thought you two were getting along so well!"

"We were, until I stopped her from eating my necklace," Sara said wryly. "I didn't realize your baby had pica."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Babies put things in their mouths, Sara. She doesn't have pica."

Sara smiled. "Well, you need to teach her not to do that."

"Thanks for saving her from herself," Mary said, watching as Sara straightened her necklace. "And, for not giving it back when she started crying. That's what John always does. As soon as the baby cries, he's giving her whatever she wants. I think it's all part of his plan to become her favorite uncle."

Sara watched as Mary cuddled her daughter, rubbing circles on her back to calm her down. "You're a great mom, Mar."

Mary shook her head. "I'm still learning. But, I think we're a pretty good team, right, Josie?"

Josie looked up at her, then grabbed for her hair.

"Okay, enough with that," Mary said, pulling her hair out of Josie's reach.

"Hey," Tom said as he joined them. "We're all set."

"Excellent," Sara said. "Do you want to follow me to the hotel? That way you can check in and get settled before we start off on any adventures."

"Yeah, great idea," Mary said.

"Let's go!"

* * *

Mary and Tom had just finished checking in when Sara's phone rang. She smiled at the sight of Grissom's name on the caller ID.

"Go on upstairs," she said. "It's Grissom. I'll talk to him and follow you up."

"Okay," Mary agreed. "Tell him we say hi."

"Will do," Sara replied. She opened her phone. "Hi."

"Hi," Grissom replied. "Did they get in okay?"

"Yeah, they did. They missed seeing you at the airport, but they say hello."

"I'm sorry I had to miss that."

"It's fine," Sara said. "You can see them later. We have plenty of time."

"What are you up to now?"

"We just got to the hotel. They're all checked in and headed up to their room."

"Where are you?"

"In the lobby. Where are _you_?"

"Still at the lab," Grissom replied. "I wanted to wrap the case. We nailed the guy in the interrogation – he confessed."

"Wow," Sara said, raising her eyebrows. "Mad props to you and Sofia."

"Thanks," Grissom chuckled. "Look, I'm probably going to be at least another hour. Do you want me to meet you somewhere when I leave?"

Sara looked at her watch. "I want you to _sleep_," she replied. "If you stay another hour, then come out with us, you'll get about an hour of sleep before you have to go back in tonight. You can see Mary and Tom tomorrow."

"You're sure?" Grissom asked.

"I'm positive." She grinned. "I don't want to expose them to cranky, sleep-deprived Grissom."

"Cranky? I thought you've always said I'm _abrupt_ when I'm tried."

"No, that's when you're _half-asleep_," Sara clarified. "When you're _tired_, you're cranky."

"I don't know why I put up with you," Grissom teased.

"I can think of a few reasons," Sara replied with a giggle.

"Yeah," Grissom said, his voice suddenly husky, "so can I."

"Griss …" Sara whispered.

He cleared this throat. "I'll share those reasons another time."

"I hope there are other, more innocent reasons."

"There are," he said, his smile carrying across the phone lines. "There most definitely are."

"Good," Sara said, smiling along with him. "Well, look, I'd better let you get back to work."

"If I must."

"You must. I'll see you at the start of shift tonight."

"I'll be there."

* * *

Sara spent her evening playing tour guide for her friends. After spending more time on the Strip than she ever did unless investigating a homicide, she left them at the Bellagio and headed home to change before going to work.

"Hey," Nick said with a smile as Sara walked into the break room. "Did your friends get here?"

"Yes," Sara said, returning the smile. "We spent the evening playing tourist." She shook her head. "Do you have any idea how many cards I got advertising strippers and hookers?"

Nick laughed. "There's a topless bar every ten feet on the Strip, isn't there?"

"And a prostitute to go with it."

"Sara, are you prostituting yourself again?" Greg asked as he entered the break room. "If you're that hard up for cash, just ask Grissom for a raise."

Sara laughed. "Yeah, I tried. He said that I'd have to convince you to take a pay cut so the lab could afford it."

"All right," Grissom said as he walked into the break room, "let's get started."

"Where are Warrick and Catherine?" Nick asked.

"They already left for a homicide," Grissom replied. "That's what they get for coming in early. As for you, you're taking Greg off for a homicide of your own. Sara, we're going to stay here and back everyone up unless a new call comes in."

"Sorry, Sara," Greg said as he stood to leave with Nick.

"No, this is great," she replied. "I'll be able to leave on time!"

"Grissom, the girl's best friend is in town," Nick said. "Can't you give her a night off?"

"She has the next three nights off," Grissom replied. "Don't let her fool you into thinking she's overworked."

"She overworks _herself_," Greg replied. "She'll probably come in every one of those three nights just to make sure we don't need her."

"_She_ is still in the room!" Sara laughed. "And, she has a name!"

"Sorry, _Sara_," Greg said. "Well, I'd better go investigate my homicide now…you have fun in the lab."

Shaking his head, Nick steered Greg out of the room. Grissom sat down across from Sara.

"How's everything going?"

"Great," she replied. She gave him a sly grin. "I noticed that you didn't volunteer yourself to go out in the field tonight, either."

"If one of us needs to go, I'll go," he said at once. "But, if neither of us needs to go…"

"We can play later," she finished softly.

"What do you have planned for today?"

"I told Mary I'd meet up with her after breakfast," she said. "We didn't make any definite plans yet."

Grissom nodded slowly. "I was thinking – "

"Grissom? Can you take a look at this?"

"Be right there," he called to Wendy, who was already walking back to her lab. He looked back a Sara with a smile. "Bring them to my place," he said quietly.

"Okay," Sara agreed. A morning in might not be such a bad idea.

Grissom smiled one last time, then followed Wendy to the DNA lab.

* * *

Sara and Grissom managed to make it out of the lab on time at the end of their shift. They were thrilled with their good fortune.

"I'm going to go home to shower and change before I meet up with Mary and Tom," Sara said as they walked to their cars. "It'll be a couple of hours before we get to your place."

"That's fine," Grissom replied.

"Do you want me to call when we're on the way?" Sara stopped in front of her car and dug her keys from her purse.

"No, don't worry about it. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay." Sara leaned in to kiss him good bye, then stopped herself, blushing slightly. "Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be," Grissom smiled. "The thought crossed my mind, too."

"As long as I'm not the only one."

He winked at her. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"See you then."

Still shaking her head at her mistake, Sara climbed into her car. She needed to get her head on straight, or she'd give their secret away to the entire lab.

* * *

Mary, Tom and Josie were just finishing breakfast in one of the Bellagio's many restaurants when Sara arrived. She smiled as she took the empty chair at their table.

"Can I bring you something, miss?" the waiter asked, appearing out of nowhere.

"No, I'm fine," Sara said, seeing that the others were nearly ready to leave the restaurant.

"Are you sure?" Mary asked. "Have you eaten anything this morning?"

"Actually, Mom, I had a bagel when I got home from work. Stop worrying."

Tom laughed. "Once she's in mom mode, she has a hard time turning it off."

Mary made a face at him. "Stop acting like you're the cool parent."

Tom laughed again. "So, Sara, what's on tap for today?"

"Well, assuming you guys are okay with this, Grissom asked me to bring you over to his place this morning."

"Sounds fine," Mary said, glancing at Tom, who nodded his agreement.

"I have no idea what he has planned," Sara continued. "We were interrupted when we started talking about it, and we never got a chance to discuss it further."

"Hey, that's fine," Tom said. "A little downtime won't kill us."

"Yeah, Vegas can be an exhausting vacation if you let it," Sara agreed.

"We're not really here to see the sights, anyway," Mary said. "We're here to see _you_."

Sara smiled. "I'm so glad you came out. _Finally_."

"We are, too."

* * *

Once they had finished breakfast, Sara drove her friends to Grissom's townhouse.

"Nice neighborhood," Tom commented as they climbed out of the car.

"Yeah, this is what being the shift supervisor will buy you," Sara joked. "My place can't hope to compare."

"Yeah, well, you're not a supervisor," Mary said, unbuckling Josie from her car seat. "Ready to meet Sara's boyfriend, sweetie?"

"She's met him," Sara replied, leading the way to the front door.

"I'm sure she remembers that," Tom laughed, taking the baby from Mary.

Shaking her head, Sara unlocked the door and pushed it open slowly. "Griss? Are you here?"

"I'll be right there!"

Sara opened the door fully and led her friends in. "Strange …"

"You didn't expect him to be here?" Tom asked.

"No, I knew he'd be here. I just don't understand why Hank didn't meet us at the door."

"Hank?"

"His dog."

Grissom appeared, smiling broadly. "Hi, everyone."

"Hey," Sara said, stepping forward to give him a chaste kiss. "There. Now I'm legal."

He laughed. "So you are."

"I almost kissed him after work today," she explained to her friends. "Wouldn't that have been great?" She shook her head. "You guys remember Grissom, right?"

"Of course," Mary said, smiling at him. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he replied, giving them a warm smile. "How was your trip?"

"Long," Tom replied. "I never knew how long a flight can seem with a baby."

Grissom's eyes softened as he looked at the baby in Tom's arms. "And this is Miss Josie, isn't it?"

"Yes," Mary smiled. "A bit bigger than the last time you saw her."

"Indeed," he murmured, stepping closer. "Hi, Josie."

She regarded him solemnly, clearly unwilling to leave the safety of her father's arms. Tom shook his head.

"She's in this whole 'stranger danger' place right now…"

"I've already made her cry once," Sara said. "I'm keeping my distance today."

Grissom smiled. "Well, we won't let her make you cry today, Josie. No worries."

Sara rolled her eyes. "You could try defending me a little."

"What? You want me to tell her that you were justified in making her cry?"

Mary and Tom exchanged a grin.

"Don't make Josie the innocent victim," Tom said. "She's already learning to manipulate with her tears."

"And, her daddy's a big pushover," Mary added.

Tom made a face. "It's tough being the cool parent."

Grissom laughed. "Come on in, guys," he said, leading them to the living room. "Can I get you anything?"

"Oh, no," Mary said. "We just came from breakfast. I may never eat again."

Sara laughed. "The Bellagio has some nice restaurants, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yeah," Tom agreed.

Sara glanced around as she curled up on one end of the couch. "Griss, where's Hank?"

"I put him in the bedroom," Grissom replied. "I didn't want him to scare the baby."

"Oh, bring him out," Sara encouraged. "I want her to meet him!"

Grissom looked at Mary and Tom. "How is she with dogs?"

"She gets along with my mom's dog fine," Tom said. "Of course, Sammie is a border terrier, so she's small … and pretty good with kids. You have something bigger, though, right?"

"Hank is a boxer," Grissom nodded. "But, he's very gentle, and he's always been good with kids."

Tom looked at Mary, who shrugged.

"Why not?" she asked. "If nothing else, it'll be a learning experience."

"All right," Tom agreed.

Grissom grinned and went to get the dog.

"You're really okay with this?" Sara asked. "I sort of feel like I pushed you into it."

"No, it's fine," Mary said. "She likes animals."

"And, her mother wants a dog," Tom said. "I think she's trying to prove to me that Josie will be fine with one."

Sara giggled. "I'll help your cause."

"Thanks," Mary grinned.

"Okay," Grissom said, "here we go."

"Hi, Hank!" Sara exclaimed.

At her exuberant greeting, Hank pulled free of the grip Grissom had on his collar and darted up the stairs. He raced up to Sara, who immediately started petting him. Josie watched with wide, fearful eyes.

"Sara, grab his collar," Grissom said.

Sara stopped fussing over the dog and did as Grissom had asked.

"Hold him," he continued. "Don't let him move too much."

"Okay …" Sara stroked Hank's head with her free hand, trying to get him to calm down.

"May I?" Grissom asked, reaching for Josie.

Tom nodded and relinquished the baby to Grissom's arms.

"Hey, Josie," Grissom said softly, cuddling her for a moment. "I want you to meet my doggie. See? That's him right there. His name is Hank."

Josie stared at the dog with wide eyes.

"He's a nice doggie," Grissom continued in the same soft, soothing voice. "He likes people. See how he's letting Sara pet him?"

"Puppy," Josie said quietly.

"That's right, sweetie, he looks like Puppy," Mary said. She looked at Grissom. "That's what she calls the stuffed dog Sara gave her."

"Right," Grissom said. "He's my puppy. The thing is, he's a real dog."

Josie finally looked away from the dog long enough to look at Grissom. "Puppy?"

"Would you like to pet Hank?" he asked. He took a step closer to the dog. "I think he'd like it if you would pet him."

He continued to walk closer to the dog, still speaking to Josie in the same soft tones. Finally, when they were close enough, he knelt down on the floor. He reached out with one hand to pat Hank's back.

"See? You can pet him like this. His fur is very soft."

"Soft," Josie repeated, stretching out her tiny hand to touch Hank's back. She giggled. "Soft."

"That's right," Grissom said happily.

"Hank," Josie said, carefully annunciating the word.

"Right," Grissom said again. "This is Hank."

Josie continued to pat Hank's back, giggling to herself. Hank tolerated her very well, allowing her to stroke his fur without moving.

"See?" Mary said. "I told you she'd be fine with a dog."

"It's been five minutes, Mar," Tom replied. "If, twenty minutes from now, she's yanking on his tail, I don't think he's going to take it quite as well as this."

Sara laughed. "Such a nay-sayer."

"Always," Mary said, heaving a long-suffering sigh.

"Hey, Griss, I think someone is getting a little bored," Sara said, watching as a toy that had rolled under the coffee table caught Hank's attention.

"Okay," Grissom said, following Sara's eyes. "Let's let Hank go play with his toy."

He straightened up as Sara released Hank's collar. Josie's eyes filled with tears.

"Doggie," she said pathetically. "Hank."

"Oh, Josie, stop that," Mary said. "Hank is still right there. You can pet him more later."

Hank, who had retrieved his toy as soon as Sara had released his collar, looked around at the sound of Josie's hiccupping sobs. He padded over to Grissom, who was seated on the couch with the baby in his lap, and dropped the toy next to them.

"See, Josie, Hank wants to be your friend," Grissom said. "He gave you his toy."

"Hank," Josie said, reaching for him.

To Sara's amazement, Hank stepped close enough for Josie to pet him.

"I didn't know he'd do that," she said.

"Lindsey just a little girl when I got him," Grissom explained. "Catherine had her over here all the time to play with him. Like I said, he's great with kids – he learned it from a young age."

"Impressive," Sara said.

"Well, now you don't have to worry about how he'd react to your baby, Sara," Mary said slyly.

Grissom nearly gave himself whiplash turning to look at her. Sara blushed and rolled her eyes.

"I'm not pregnant, Gil. Mary just thinks that everyone needs a baby now that she has one."

"Oh," Grissom said. He looked back down at the baby in his arms, watching as she patted his dog.

_Maybe a baby wouldn't be so bad … _

* * *

Sara spent the following days playing tour guide to Mary and Tom. Grissom joined them as much as he could. Although Josie had taken to Sara, and was more than willing to let her hold and play with her without crying, it was Grissom who won her heart. Her face lit up with a smile when he appeared, and she would invariably stretch out her arms to him, hoping that he'd hold her.

"My goddaughter loves you more than me," Sara pouted as she watched Josie's beaming smile appear when Grissom walked into her apartment to join them for dinner.

"I'm sorry, dear," Grissom said, taking the baby from Sara and tossing her up into the air, making her shriek in laughter.

"He cheated," Tom said. "He won her over with the dog."

Sara laughed. "Cheater. I won her affection all on my own."

Grissom smiled and tickled Josie. "Well, I'm just not as charming as you. I have to fall back on Hank to help me."

"You know, I've heard that dogs are great for finding dates," Tom said. "In fact, I had a buddy in college who would borrow other people's dogs to walk just to find women."

Sara laughed. "Gil, if I _ever_ find out you're doing something like that …"

"Why would I want to? I have you," he said, giving her a smile that made her knees weak.

"Hey, now," Mary teased, "no giving her looks like that in front of my baby."

Grissom, unaware that he had been so obvious, blushed. Sara laughed.

"I think Josie will survive."

"Come here, you," Tom said, taking the baby back from Grissom. "We'll make sure they don't taint you with their overt sexuality."

Sara laughed again, and Grissom's blush deepened.

"Hey, it's not our fault we have good chemistry," Sara said. "Let's talk about dinner tomorrow. It's going to be quite the party."

With the subject effectively changed, Grissom's color and breathing returned to normal.

* * *

The next day, Grissom went straight to Sara's house after work. He found her in her living room, watching tv.

"Where are Mary and Tom?"

"Don't you mean, where's Josie?" Sara teased. "Are you missing your girlfriend?"

Grissom laughed. "She's a sweetie."

"She is," Sara agreed. "I'm really going to miss her when they go back home."

"Me, too," Grissom acknowledged. "I forgot how much fun it is to play with a baby."

Sara looked at him for a moment, but let the comment pass. "Are you tired?" she asked instead. "Mary and Tom said they'd leave us alone until the party tonight." She grinned. "I think that has a lot to do with the fact that Mary can't stand to be in the same house with me when I'm doing party prep."

Grissom frowned bemusedly. "Why?"

Sara laughed. "She says I'm too neurotic."

Grissom grinned. "I like your neuroses. They're cute."

"So are you," Sara said. "So, are you tired? Do you want to sleep for awhile?"

"Mm-hm," he nodded. "But, I want you to come with me."

Sara clicked off the tv. "I'd like nothing better."

* * *

"Sara? Where's your oregano?"

"In the cupboard," Sara called from the depths of the bathroom, which she was furiously cleaning.

"I'm going to need you to be more specific, sweetheart," Grissom called from the kitchen, where he was starting his clam sauce.

"It's with all the other spices, Gil!"

"So specific," he muttered.

Resigning himself to finding the oregano on his own, he turned back to the cupboard.

* * *

Grissom's sauce was simmering and Sara had just finished getting dressed when the first knock sounded on her door. She looked at Grissom with raised eyebrows.

"Don't look at me," he said. "I don't live here."

Sara shook her head. "I didn't expect anyone to be here for at least half an hour," she said.

She crossed to open the door, surprised to see Greg standing on her doorstep. "Greg!"

"Hi," he said, smiling a bit sheepishly.

"Come on in," Sara said, stepping back to let him enter.

"Your liquor," he said, handing over a bag.

"Good grief, Greg," Sara laughed, taking the bag. "How many people were you expecting?"

"I don't know if you know this, but Catherine likes her mixed drinks," he said in a stage whisper. "Hi, Grissom."

"Hi, Greg," Grissom said a bit awkwardly, torn between laughing at his joke and being embarrassed at being found in Sara's apartment.

"Okay, let me just get this over with," Greg said. "Catherine may think that you're bringing the sauce over, but I knew you'd be here to cook. I didn't want her or anyone else to show up a few minutes early and find you here alone with Sara. I thought that might seem suspicious. So, I thought I'd come over early. I can deflect any attention away from the fact that you're here, too."

"Wow, Greg," Sara said. "That's an awful lot more forethought than I put into this."

"Greg," Grissom said slowly, "thank you."

Greg shrugged and smiled. "That's what friends are for."

"Friends are also for chopping tomatoes," Sara said. "Come on, Greggo. Help me make a salad."

"Grissom trusts you to make a salad?" Greg asked, following her into the kitchen.

"Oh, shut up."

The three of them worked together to put the finishing touches on dinner – with the exception of the dessert Nick was bringing and the appetizers Warrick had promised – in Sara's cramped kitchen. Greg, observing his best friend and his boss in a domestic setting for the first time, wondered how he could possibly be the only one on the team who had seen through them. They were so … _obvious_.

Warrick and Tina were the first to arrive after Greg, bringing spinach dip and a cheese platter.

"Warrick told me that you're a vegetarian, so I hope this is okay," Tina said as she and Sara carried the plates into the kitchen.

"This is perfect," Sara smiled. "Thank you so much. I'm so glad you could come." She giggled. "I just hope you're ready to see the entire team together."

"Well, I've met everyone," Tina said.

"Yeah, but there's a difference between everyone and _everyone_," Sara laughed. "Just wait. You'll see."

"Hey, Sara!" Greg yelled. "What's up with this? No pictures of me on your desk?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Greg. I'll take one right now."

"Really?"

"Do you see a camera?"

"You're a tease."

Tina laughed. "I see what you mean."

Catherine and Nick arrived together; they had run into each other in the parking lot. Sara took the cake Nick had brought; Catherine followed her into the kitchen with her bottles of wine.

"Oh, there's my favorite smell," she said, lifting the lid from the pot where the clam sauce was simmering. "Have you had this before?"

"Um, no …"

"You'll love it," Catherine said.

Sara smiled. "I'm sure I will."

"Hey! Sara! Mary's here!" Greg yelled.

Sara shook her head. "When did you move in? Why are you answering my door?"

"Because you and Catherine are too busy drooling over that sauce to do it. Get over here and greet your guests."

"Someone's in rare form tonight," Catherine said.

"Yeah," Sara sighed. "The scary thing is, he hasn't started drinking yet."

Mary was still laughing when Sara made her way over to her.

"I forgot how funny Greg is," she said.

"As Catherine just said, he's in rare form," Sara said. "Hi, guys. Are you ready for this?"

"Bring it on," Tom said. "I feel like I know everyone already."

"Well, here we go," Sara said. "We'll go person by person, okay?"

"Let's go."

As Sara had anticipated, her coworkers were more than welcoming to her old friends. Catherine and Greg both adored Josie; like Sara, they immediately started talking to her in an effort to win her over. Sara chuckled.

"Yeah, the first time I did that, I made her cry."

"Sara, you took your necklace away from her to stop her from choking on it," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "_That's_ what made her cry."

"She's beautiful," Catherine said, touching Josie's curls. "How old is she?"

"Almost fourteen months," Tom supplied.

"That's such a fun age," Catherine sighed. "Sometimes, I wish my daughter was still that young."

"How old is she?" Mary asked.

"Fourteen." Catherine shook her head. "Appreciate the fact that this one can't talk while it lasts."

Tom laughed. "See, Mary? You need to stop encouraging her to talk."

Mary shook her head. "Please, Catherine, don't encourage him."

Catherine smiled.

"Okay, everyone, I think we're ready with this sauce," Grissom said, emerging from the kitchen.

"Great," Sara said. "We're going to do a buffet thing, so –"

Her words were cut off by Josie's squeal of delight at the sight of Grissom. She stretched out her arms to him, laughing.

Panic started to cross Grissom's face, but Greg came to his rescue.

"Well, there we go, Grissom. We've found a woman for you." He took Josie from Mary and carried her over to Grissom. "This is Grissom, Josie. He's our boss." He continued in a loud whisper, "He's a little scary."

Grissom smiled and took the baby from Greg. "Hi, there, Miss Josie."

"Well, there's something I never thought I'd see," Warrick said. "Griss, you like babies?"

"I suppose I do," he said. "Babies like me."

"That's true," Catherine said. "You should have seen him and Lindsey when she was a baby. It was ridiculous. They fell in love the first time they met … and, I don't think either one has looked back."

Grissom smiled. "You should have brought her tonight."

"Expose my daughter to this crew when there's alcohol involved? I think not."

Sara breathed a sigh of relief. She looked at Grissom and saw her feelings mirrored on his face. Neither of them had realized that Josie would give them away.

Sara was suddenly very glad that Greg knew about them. She vowed to buy him a present – and, to put a picture of him on her desk.

* * *

Sara was pulled from a dream the next morning as she felt her bed dip down. Smiling, she turned to her side.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," Grissom replied, leaning over to kiss her. "Go back to sleep."

"What time is it?"

"Nearly noon."

"Oh, my," Sara said, fully opening her eyes. She rolled onto her back. "I don't remember the last time I slept this late when I wasn't working."

"Playing hostess can be exhausting."

"When was the last time you played _hostess_?"

Grissom wrinkled up his nose at her. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." Sara reached up to run her fingers over his beard. "Did you have fun at the party?"

"I did," he affirmed. "I'm just glad everyone was sober by the time shift started."

Sara giggled. "You should be glad that Greg didn't drink anything."

Grissom shook his head. "I can't believe everything he did for us yesterday."

"Neither can I. He's truly an incredible friend."

"He is," Grissom agreed.

"I can't believe Josie almost gave us away!" Sara laughed.

"_Almost_?" Grissom repeated incredulously. "If it hadn't been for Greg …"

"I know." Sara smiled. "You really are amazing with her, Gil." She blushed slightly. "I've loved watching you with her."

"Well, I suppose my secret is out," he said. "I have a soft spot for babies."

"I never knew that," Sara said. She reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. "Do you ever regret …"

"Regret what?"

Sara stared at their joined hands. "Nothing."

"Hey." Grissom took her chin with his free hand, forcing her to look into his eyes. "You know that I love kids. We've talked about that before."

Sara nodded.

"It may not have been a conscious decision, but I did choose to devote myself to science and to, for lack of a better word, my career, rather than to have a family. Do I regret that? No."

"Really?" she nearly whispered.

"Really," he affirmed. "I love what I do, Sara. I've never regretted a single moment of my professional life." He ran his fingertips over her cheek. "And, if I had gone down another path, I would have already had a family when you and I met, and we wouldn't have _this_. And, that, my dear, is unthinkable."

Sara smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "Do you know how happy you make me?"

"I think I have a pretty good idea," he smiled, rolling on top of her and kissing her again. "I'd imagine it's just as happy as you make me."


	60. Full Disclosure

A/N: Wow, I can't believe I have this done! I truly thought it wouldn't be ready until the weekend. Behold the power of the last day of summer!

Which brings us to the sad part … I'm headed back to work tomorrow. As always, it's a mystery to me how much free time I'll have until I get a few weeks into the year. So, for now, let's just say I'll be back to updating on weekends.

One last thing before you start: Under Sheriff McKeen is mentioned in the last section of this chapter. I actually had that section written LONG before the finale aired, so there is nothing evil about what's going on there.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this one last chapter of fluff before we get back into the cases.

I don't own CSI or Full House. If you can find the Full House reference, I'll be impressed!

* * *

_Full Disclosure_

Under normal circumstances, Mary's departure would have left Sara terribly sad. However, as luck would have it, Mary, Tom and Josie flew out of Vegas the day before Sara and Grissom were scheduled to leave for San Francisco. In her frantic rush to pack, Sara barely had time to miss her friends.

Grissom had scheduled both of them off the necessary days for the trip, but had given himself an extra day before they left and Sara an extra day upon their return. His intention was to show that they had planned two separate trips that just happened to overlap. As far as the lab was concerned, he was going to San Francisco to "consult" with Carl; Sara was headed to San Diego for some much-needed beach relaxation.

Grissom arrived at Sara's apartment to take her to the airport right on time. Sara was glad he hadn't come early; she was zipping her suitcase when she heard him open the door.

"Sara?"

"I'm in here!" she called from the bedroom. "Oof!"

"What are you doing?" Grissom asked as he entered her bedroom.

"Over packing, apparently," she said without turning around.

"Here, let me."

Sara moved aside, allowing him to lift her suitcase off her bed. She looked at him and gasped.

"What's wrong?" Grissom asked, tensing.

"What did you do?" she exclaimed, reaching up to touch his bare cheeks.

"Oh," Grissom said, flushing slightly. "That."

"You shaved?" she asked incredulously, running her fingers over his face. She had certainly seen him clean-shaven before, but it came as something of a shock. "What made you decide to do that?"

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "I thought that, since we're taking separate trips, and since this is summer and you can't wear scarves … it might be best if you came back to work without beard burn."

Sara giggled. "Are you suggesting that this time away might involve some activities that could result in beard burn?"

"Oh, yes," he said in a low voice, giving her a look that made her melt.

"Griss …" she murmured. She leaned up to kiss him, still caressing his face as she let her lips slide over his. "Mmmm … Well, that was a whole new experience."

"Good or bad?" he asked.

"Definitely good." She gave him a wink. "We may need to do that again for me to get used to it."

"Oh, sweetheart, we most certainly will," Grissom said. "But, for now, we need to get to the airport. We don't want to miss our flight."

"True," Sara agreed. She picked up her purse. "I think that's everything."

"Just one suitcase?"

"Yup."

"Okay," Grissom said. "Let's go."

They walked out of the apartment and Sara locked the door. She took Grissom's hand as they strolled to his car.

"Do you think everyone will buy our stories?" Sara asked as Grissom put her suitcase into the trunk. "They'll believe that we're going on separate vacations at the same time?"

"I certainly hope so," he said. "What's not to believe?" He slammed the trunk shut and gave her a smile. "We know that at least one member of the team will do his best to keep the gossip to a minimum."

"I didn't tell Greg what we're up to," Sara said. "Did you?"

Grissom gave her a look that clearly said she was out of her mind for even asking. "Surely you jest."

Sara laughed. "Hey, I don't know what you and Greg discuss when I'm not there."

"Cases, normally," Grissom replied. "I just meant that he would likely refute any theory that we had gone away together."

"True," Sara agreed, walking around to the passenger side of Grissom's car. "And, I have a feeling that most of our coworkers would assume that Greg would know who I'm dating."

"Hm," Grissom murmured, nodding his agreement as they both slid into the car. "Everyone knows how close the two of you are."

"He's like the little brother I never had," Sara agreed. She cuddled back into her seat and gave Grissom a smile. "We're really going away together, aren't we?"

"We really are," he affirmed, smiling back. He leaned across to kiss her. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

* * *

"Gil, did you see the view? This is great!"

They had arrived at the hotel just after two in the afternoon, which meant they were able to check in immediately – barely. The desk clerk made sure that they understood that check in wasn't usually until three, and that they were lucky to have a room ready. Deciding to consider themselves lucky rather than to focus on the rudeness of the hotel employee, they had made their way to their room and were exploring it.

Grissom left his perusal of their hotel room's bathroom to join Sara at the window. "Very nice," he agreed, looking down at the street scene before them. "I usually get the parking lot view in hotels."

"Me, too," Sara agreed. "Or the air conditioning units. This is beautiful."

"To one who enjoys cityscapes."

Sara frowned slightly. "You don't?"

"I do," he assured her. "But, if I would rather spend my time out in nature, I wouldn't like this view."

"You also wouldn't be spending your weekend away in the city," Sara said. She turned around and hugged him tightly. "I can't believe we're really here. Alone. For four days."

Grissom kissed her temple. "You made it happen."

She sighed against him in pure happiness. "What would you like to do first?"

"Kiss you." He confirmed his words by pressing his lips to her temple again.

Sara giggled. "You can do that at home."

"Not whenever I want to, though." Another kiss, this time to her forehead.

"Griss … we should go see the sights …"

"I am," he said, pulling back to look at her for a moment before kissing her lips.

Sara sighed against his lips as he deepened the kiss and steered her toward the bed.

"I really wanted to …" Sara began.

"To what?" Grissom asked, peeling off her shirt.

"Nothing."

He grinned and began kissing her again.

* * *

"You are making me waste our vacation time," Sara accused, poking Grissom's bare chest as she lay in his arms. "We could have been out sight-seeing!"

"If you had a problem with it, you could have stopped me," he replied.

She laughed and shook her head. "You knew I wouldn't stop you after the way you kissed me." She stretched up to kiss his chin. "You're too damn irresistible."

"So are you," he replied, playing with her hair. "But, if you still want to go out sight-seeing, we could probably see a few things before dinner. We have time."

"I'm not sure about that."

Grissom turned to look at the clock. "Honey, it's only four o'clock. Were you planning to eat the early bird special this afternoon?"

"No, but I'll need to take a shower before we leave."

"A shower?" he asked with a grin, raising an eyebrow.

Sara laughed. "See? This is why I thought we wouldn't have time. I knew you'd get that look in your eyes and insist upon joining me 'to save time,' which means that we'll spend at least twice as long in the shower as we would have if we'd gone separately –"

"Okay!" Grissom laughed, stopping her flow of words. "I get it! I'm getting in the way of your clipboard of fun. Just … tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

Sara grinned. "After a comment like that, I either want you to kiss me or get away from me. I'm not sure which."

"I think I know," Grissom said, leaning in to kiss her.

Sara pulled back after a moment. "You're incorrigible."

"Maybe. But, you're incredibly sexy … especially when you're pretending to be irritated with me."

Sara laughed and kissed him deeply. "There. Happy now?"

Grissom grinned. "I suppose."

"Good. Now can I take a shower?"

"Of course." Grissom rolled away from her, letting her climb out of the bed.

Sara started to walk toward the bathroom, then paused, turning to face him with twinkling eyes. "What? Aren't you coming with me?"

Grissom jumped from the bed and chased her into the shower.

* * *

After a lengthy shower, they finally made it out of the hotel. They walked to a nearby restaurant for dinner. By the time they had finished, it after dark.

"Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Grissom asked as they stood up from the table.

Sara shook her head. "I want to go for a walk."

"That sounds nice," Grissom agreed.

Sara smiled and took his hand. "I want to show you my city."

"You showed me your city when we were here together before."

Sara shook her head. "No, I showed you the tourists' city before," she said. "This time, you're going to see _my_ city."

Grissom smiled, delighted that Sara was so willing to open herself up to him. He raised their joined hands and kissed hers. "I'd like nothing more."

Sara took him on a tour of the area of town where they were staying, pointing out her favorite stores and restaurants. She kept up an animated discourse, telling him at least one entertaining anecdote to accompany each location.

"Tomorrow, I want to take you to the lab," she said as they returned to the hotel. "I want to show you where I got my start … and, I thought we'd both like to see Carl."

Grissom's eyes lit up. "I was hoping we'd have time to see him. Did you call to tell him we'd be here?"

Sara shook her head, her eyes dancing. "I thought we'd let it be a surprise."

Grissom laughed. "The poor man. We'll give him a heart attack!"

"He's tough," Sara replied. "He can take it." She grinned. "And, if not, we both know CPR."

* * *

The next morning found Grissom and Sara in a taxi, on their way to the San Francisco Crime Lab. Sara clutched Grissom's hand, unable to dim the excited smile that spread across her face.

"I can't believe we're going to see them!" she exclaimed. "I can't wait."

"I haven't seen Carl in years," Grissom said. "It'll be great to see him again."

"Did you ever meet Anne?"

"Anne?" Grissom asked blankly.

"Anne Davis," Sara said. "She's his Catherine."

"No, I've never met her, but I've heard a lot about her. He talks about her all the time."

"They're great," Sara said. "I felt really lucky to work with them when I started." She grinned. "I feel even luckier to work with you now."

Grissom smiled and leaned over to kiss her cheek as they arrived at the lab.

Sara climbed out of the car while Grissom paused to pay the fare. By the time he joined her on the sidewalk, she was practically giddy with excitement.

"Are you ready?" she asked, grabbing his hand again.

"Lead on," Grissom replied with a smile.

Sara led him to the front entrance. He dropped her hand to open the door for her, letting her precede him into the building. Sara grinned to see a familiar receptionist working at the front desk.

"Hi, April," she said with a grin.

The receptionist looked at her with a slight frown. After a moment, recognition flashed in her eyes and she grinned. "Sara?" she exclaimed. "Sara Sidle, is that you?"

"Yes," Sara said.

"Girl, come here!" April jumped up from her seat behind the desk and grabbed Sara in a tight hug. "I can't believe it!" she exclaimed, pulling back to look at her. "I thought we'd never see you again after you left us."

Sara smiled. "Well, I couldn't possibly come to San Francisco without stopping for a visit."

"You'd better not even try," April said with another grin. "If Carl had found out, I don't even want to think about what he'd have done to you."

"Is he here?" Sara asked, fearing, a bit belatedly, that he might be out at a scene.

"He is," April affirmed. "He and Anne just got back from a scene. You've got good timing. Do you want me to page him for you?"

"Is it all right if I go and find him?" Sara asked. "I want to surprise him."

"Oh, he'll be surprised, all right," April laughed. "That's fine. Let me get you a visitor's badge." She looked past Sara to Grissom. "I'll be with you in a minute, sir. Sorry about that."

"Oh, no, he's with me," Sara said quickly. "He'll need a badge, too."

April's eyes lit up as she looked from Sara to Grissom and back, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her face. "Sara, you're holding out on me," she said softly.

Sara laughed. "This is Gil Grissom," she said. "He's actually one of Carl's best friends."

"Oh, Dr. Grissom!" April said. "Carl talks about you all the time."

"Does he?" Grissom said with a smile. "I'll have to talk to him about that."

"Well, I'm just excited to finally meet you," she said. "Although, I think half this lab hates you for taking Sara and Wendy away from us."

"What can I say?" Grissom asked with a shrug. "Vegas is an alluring place."

"Indeed," April said. She handed each of them a visitor's badge. "Make sure you wear those while you're in the building."

"Got it," Sara said. "Any suggestions on where to find Carl?"

April shook her head slowly. "Maybe the layout room? I'd try there first. Like I said, he and Anne just got back, so I'm sure they're going over all their evidence."

"Thanks."

"Good luck!"

With one last grin, Sara led Grissom into the heart of the lab.

"She's exuberant, isn't she?" he asked.

Sara giggled. "Makes Judy look quiet, huh?"

"Judy is quiet," Grissom said.

"April certainly is not," Sara replied. "She's an absolute sweetheart – and, a fantastic source of gossip. That girl hears everything, and, if you're on her good side, she's more than willing to share."

"Well, Miss Sidle, I never thought you'd be one who was into lab gossip."

She laughed. "That's because in Vegas, I'm always the _source_ of the lab gossip."

"That's not true," Grissom said, genuine concern reflected in his face and voice.

"Griss. You and I were already friends when you asked me to move to Vegas. Of course, people were going to talk."

"Huh," he said, realizing for the first time that she was right.

Sara shook her head. "You are so oblivious."

He smiled slightly. "Catherine always told me to get my head out of the microscope."

"You should listen to Catherine more." Sara stopped abruptly in front of the open layout room door. She glanced in and saw Carl and Anne standing with their backs to her, obviously engrossed in conversation. She grinned and put her finger over her lips to request silence.

Grissom followed her eyes and grinned at her. He nodded and winked.

"Excuse me," Sara said, walking through the open door, "did one of you call for a consult?"

Carl and Anne turned around as one. Their confused expressions melted into surprised delight as they recognized Sara. With an excited exclamation, Anne raced across the room to pull Sara into a tight hug.

"Sara," she exclaimed. "I can't believe it's you! Where did you come from?"

"Vegas," Sara laughed, returning the hug. "Oh, Anne, I've missed you."

"We've missed you, too, sweetheart," Anne said. She pulled back to look at her. "Look at you. All grown up."

Sara giggled. "I was all grown up when I worked here."

"Not like you are now," Anne insisted. She hugged her again.

Sara finally pulled back to see Grissom and Carl shaking hands, beaming grins firmly in place.

"Anne," Carl said, "you've got to meet this man."

Anne released Sara and turned to the two men. "Anne Davis," she said, extending her hand.

"Gil Grissom," Grissom replied.

Anne stopped mid-handshake. "_The_ Gil Grissom?" she asked. "_Doctor_ Gil Grissom? Carl's best friend who keeps headhunting our people?"

Grissom laughed. "Carl, can you please explain to me why it is that your entire staff thinks I'm poaching your CSIs and lab techs?"

"Because you are, my friend," Carl grinned. "First Sara, then Wendy …" His eyes softened as he looked at Sara. "Hi, little girl."

Sara grinned and walked into his open arms. "Hi."

Carl held her tightly, rocking her gently back and forth. "Miss us?" he teased.

"Sometimes," she replied. "Then, I realize that I'm working with the entomologist version of you, and I get over it."

Carl laughed. "Chemistry, biology, it's all the same." He shook his head. "I can't believe the two of you are here! What brings you to San Francisco?"

Grissom and Sara exchanged a somewhat uneasy glance. They had never discussed how to answer that particular question. Anne caught the look that passed between them and gasped.

"Oh, my," she said. "You two …"

"What?" Carl asked with a frown.

Anne waved off Carl's oblivious question and grinned. "You're seeing each other, aren't you?"

Sara's flushed face and Grissom's helpless smile were all the answer she needed. She laughed.

"And, this is a little weekend away, isn't it?"

Sara nodded.

"Oh, that's fantastic!"

Anne hugged Sara again, while Carl looked at Grissom in disbelief.

"How in the world did you manage to get Sara to fall for you?" he teased.

Grissom shook his head. "I think I'm still trying to figure that one out."

Carl laughed and slapped him on the back. "Well, congratulations. I thought Sara had more sense than to go for someone like you, but, if you're both happy …"

"We are," Sara assured him.

"Very happy," Grissom added, giving Sara a warm smile.

"Well, that's great," Carl said. He looked at Sara. "So, where are you working now?"

"I'm still at the lab," she said.

"Oh," he said. "Good. You've always been great at your job." He looked at Grissom with a frown. "Don't tell me you left CSI for some higher, more intellectual pursuit."

"No, of course not," Grissom said. "I couldn't leave the lab."

Carl's frown deepened. "So, wait. If you're both still at the lab …"

Sara's face flushed again. "Yeah … about that …"

"We're bending the rules a bit," Grissom acknowledged. "We don't let our personal life come to work with us. No one knows, so I'd say we're doing a good job of keeping 'us' out of the lab. I think …" He smiled at Sara. "I think we work together better now. I think it's made us better at our jobs, and a stronger team."

"Gil …" Carl said slowly, "you're breaking a pretty major rule."

"I know," Grissom said.

"We both do," Sara said, taking Grissom's hand and lacing her fingers through his. "But, neither of us is willing to give up a job that we love, and neither of us is willing to give up the best relationship we've had in years."

Grissom shrugged helplessly. "How can I say no to this girl?"

"How, indeed?" Carl said. "Well, I'll be honest. As much as I know what you're doing is wrong by lab standards, I know that you're two of the most talented CSIs out there – aside from me and Anne, of course – and I'd hate to see any lab lose you. I also know that you're two of the best people I've ever known. If you can find happiness in each other, then that's enough for me."

"We're both happy for you," Anne said. "And, I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we won't blow any whistles."

"Of course not," Carl agreed. He grinned. "To be honest, I like the idea that you're doing this behind Ecklie's back. He's still your assistant director, right?"

Grissom grinned and nodded. "And, he's still just like he was in college."

"Wait," Sara said, dropping Grissom's hand. "You two went to college with _Ecklie_?"

"Yeah," Carl laughed. "He was in half our classes. God, what a pompous ass."

Sara laughed. "Unbelievable! I never knew."

"There are some things I'd rather not remember," Grissom replied.

Sara laughed again. "Oh, man. Can I tell Greg?"

"No," Grissom said. "No one at the lab knows about that. It's probably for the best."

"Why?"

Carl laughed. "Because Conrad never got over the fact that Gil and I always got higher grades than he did. In fact, as I recall, he dropped one class because someone in this room wrecked the curve. Now, I'm not going to name names, but I will say that it was a biology class and that I was a chem major …"

Sara laughed. "Oh, that is too funny!"

Grissom laughed. "What can I say? Conrad and I have a long history."

"Indeed," Carl agreed. He laughed. "I can't believe you never told her!"

"Well, I didn't see you shouting it from the rooftops."

"Fair enough," Carl said. He grinned. "It does cheapen the degree a little to know that Ecklie is holding the same one."

Still grinning, Sara shook her head in disbelief. Would she _ever_ learn all of Grissom's secrets?

* * *

After having lunch with Carl and Anne, Grissom and Sara left the lab. Grissom was still shaking his head as they got on a bus that would take them to the Golden Gate Bridge – Sara had declared that no trip to San Francisco was complete without seeing it.

"I don't know how they could tell," he said.

"Tell what?" Sara asked.

"That we're together."

Sara smiled and took his hand. "Well, dear, I think it's pretty obvious. I mean, why would we surprise them with a visit together? It would be one thing if Carl had called you in for a consult and you brought me along, but there is really no good, professional reason for us to be here together."

"I suppose you're right."

"You know I am," she smiled. She laughed. "I can't believe you went to college with Ecklie and never told me!"

Grissom made a face. "Like Carl says, it cheapens my degree. It was just undergrad, then we parted ways. I think that 'shocked' pretty much sums up how I felt when I started working at the lab and found him there."

"I'll bet Carl loved that one."

Grissom nodded, grinning at the memory. "He tried to convince me to move to San Francisco to work with him – he said it would be better than working with Ecklie."

Sara laughed. "Nah. I think the lab needs you to balance out Ecklie."

"I agree." He kissed her fingers. "So, we'll see the bridge … then what?"

"We're going to dinner at that restaurant I took you to when you were here for that lecture series. Remember?"

"Yeah," he said. He grinned. "Is today the day of reliving our past?"

"Yeah," Sara said, flushing slightly.

Grissom smiled. "I like it."

"I thought you would."

* * *

It was late when they returned to the hotel. Grissom smiled as he watched Sara kick off her shoes.

"What do you have on our agenda for tomorrow?"

"I thought I'd show you my high school," she said. "I know we can't get in, but we can look around the campus." She smiled. "I'll show you all the places I hung out when I was in a teenager."

"That sounds great," Grissom agreed. "Do you want to meet up with some of your old friends, too?"

"No," Sara said at once, her voice harsh. "No, we've seen all the old friends I want to see."

Surprised by the anger in her voice, Grissom nodded slowly. "Okay. That's fine."

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Gil. It's just … high school was a terrible time for me socially. I was an outcast over what had happened in my family, and no one … well, no one was willing to go beyond that to be my friend."

"Oh, honey. I'm sorry. I didn't even think."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. How would you know?" She sighed and pulled her hair back from her face. "The truth is, Gil, that you're the only person who isn't a therapist or someone who worked on the case who knows what happened. You're the only _friend_ I've ever told about my family."

Grissom frowned. "What about Mary?"

"I've never told her." Her eyes were suddenly very bright. "I … couldn't. After all that I'd been through … People always left when they found out what had happened. Then, I got to Harvard, and I lived with this bright, happy, bubbly girl who became my friend within moments. I was so afraid to tell her what had happened. I didn't want her to leave me, too. Then, it was sophomore year, then junior and senior and then we were in grad school and …" She shrugged. "At this point, I know logically that I could tell Mary what happened and she'd just hug me and tell me how sorry she was. But, for some reason, I just can't convince myself that I want her to know."

Grissom gently caressed her cheek. "If you don't want anyone to know, that's fine," he said softly. "It's your right to disclose what you want about your past." He swallowed. "Just know that there is nothing that could have happened to you that will ever make me leave you."

Sara closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "Gil…" she sighed.

He leaned closer and gently kissed her. "Sara," he whispered.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, cupping his face to pull him in for another kiss. "Gil, make love to me," she said. "Please."

Grissom, more than happy to oblige, led her to the bed. Sara sighed as they tumbled down onto it and he pulled her closer.

She was happy with her life. She had a job she loved and a boyfriend she adored, not to mention friends who had become her family. But, when she started to think too much of the past, of the girl she used to be … something inside her changed. It was as if all the good she knew now could never stand up against all the bad she had known in the past. The only thing she knew of that could make it better was Grissom. The way he touched her, the way he kissed her, the way he whispered her name … He made her feel beautiful. Loved. Whole.

Complete.

* * *

Their trip passed in a whirlwind of days spent sight-seeing and nights spent in each other's arms. Sara could hardly believe it when they found themselves back in Las Vegas.

"Do we really have to go back to work tonight?" she asked as they walked through the airport to baggage claim.

"Yes, we do."

She sighed and laced her fingers through his. "We still have about eight hours," she said suggestively. "I can think of a great way we can spend that time…"

"Mmm," Grissom said, smiling at her. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Well, I thought a nice, long bath would be nice," she said. "Or, maybe just some time in bed … together …"

"I think those are great ideas," Grissom said in a low voice. "I suppose the only question I have, then, is your place or –"

He stopped suddenly, the color slowly draining from his face. Sara frowned at him, then turned in the direction he was looking. She gasped and dropped his hand.

"Well, well."

"Jim," Grissom said, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. "What brings you to McCarran?"

"One of the Under Sheriff's friends is in town, and since I'm still on desk duty and available, I was dispatched to pick him up," Brass explained, grinning at them. "What's your excuse?"

"We – we just –"

"Oh, wait, I remember," Brass said. He was grinning, clearly enjoying every moment of this. "I believe that _you_, Gil, were in San Francisco to help an old friend, and _you_, Sara, were in San Diego to relax. Hm. Amazing that you ended up in the airport together."

"Jim, please," Sara began.

He smiled, holding up his hand to stop her. "I get it," he said. "You obviously just ran into each other."

Grissom and Sara looked at each other, then back at Brass, who was still grinning.

"Of course, that only explains why you're both here. It does not explain the fact that you were holding hands and discussing … well, let's just say that I heard more than I wanted to."

Sara's face immediately grew warm as the blood rushed to it. She looked at Grissom, whose face was a matching shade of red.

"Look, Jim, we …"

Again, Brass held up a hand to stop the flow of explanations. "Listen, it's been a few years since I worked in CSI, but I'm not blind. I've noticed that the two of you have been chummier recently than you were for awhile there. Now, like the rest of your team, I attributed it to a reestablished friendship and moved on. But, I can see that I was wrong."

"Jim, it's not that we wanted to hide –"

"Would you two stop interrupting me?"

Fully chastised, both Grissom and Sara fell silent.

"Listen, I'm thrilled for you. I really am. I think this has been a long time in coming." He paused. "I also know that you're putting your careers in jeopardy by being together."

"That's why we didn't tell you," Sara said quietly. "We haven't told anyone at work."

"Right," Brass said. He smiled. "Look, you're both great friends, and I don't want you to lose your jobs over the fact that you've found happiness. So, I'll keep your secret – on one condition."

"Name it," Grissom said.

He smiled softly. "Make each other happy. We see enough death and destruction in a day … I think we all need some happiness in our lives. Just promise me that you'll always work to be that happiness for one another, and I'll keep your secret."

Grissom and Sara gave each other beaming smiles, then turned them on Brass. Grissom answered for both of them.

"That, Jim, will never be a problem."


	61. Partnerships

A/N: I am so, so sorry for how long it took for me to update this story! My life has been the property of my employer for the past three weeks, and I'm slowly getting it back. I think things are _finally_ calming down, so I should be able to update every weekend again for awhile.

Thank you so much for your patience, and for sticking with this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 701, "Built to Kill, Part 1."

* * *

_Partnerships_

"Hi, guys," Sara said as she entered the break room at the start of her shift.

"Hey, little miss beach vacation!" Nick exclaimed, jumping up to hug her. "How was it?"

"It was great," Sara replied. "Very relaxing."

"You aren't very tan," Nick said, studying her carefully.

"Lots of sunscreen," Sara replied a bit evasively.

"Smart," Greg said, standing up to hug her. "Welcome back, Sensei."

Sara grinned. "Hi, Greg."

"Hey, everyone," Catherine said as she walked into the room.

"Hi," Sara and Nick said in unison.

"Hey," Greg said. He frowned. "Shouldn't you be at an implosion party?"

"Huh?" Sara asked.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Sam's having a party tonight for the implosion of the Rampart."

"Oh," Sara said. "Didn't you want to go?"

"No."

"Why not?" Greg exclaimed. "That's a piece of Vegas history, Cath! You could be there to see it come down!"

"No, I think I'd rather not see my dear old dad with some blond bimbo hanging off his arm while he celebrates having enough money to demolish one of his buildings to put up another one."

Nick frowned. "Wait. I thought your parents were back together … sort of."

Catherine gave a half smile. "In their own special way, they are. But, Mom's off on a cruise with her girlfriends, so Dad's on his own tonight."

"He didn't ask you to go with him?" Greg persisted.

"I was invited with a guest," Catherine replied. "He expected me to show off my own man, so he'll undoubtedly be showing off some arm candy."

"Cath, I just want you to know that I would have been more than happy to be your arm candy for this event," Greg said.

Catherine grinned. "Thanks, Greg. But, I had to work tonight – mainly because I made sure that Grissom put me on the schedule –, so neither of us will be on hand to watch the Rampart implode."

"But, two of us will," Grissom said as he entered the room. "Or, at the very least, to see the aftermath. Sara, you and Warrick are going to the implosion party to check out a DB."

Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "What?" she exclaimed.

Grissom handed Sara an assignment slip. "I don't know much, Catherine, but I do know that Sam is still alive and well. No worries."

Catherine shut her eyes briefly, then opened them. "With Sam, there's _always_ a reason to worry. Sometimes several."

"We're on it," Sara said. "Where's Warrick?"

"He's in the hall, talking to Brass. He's already at the scene and wanted to give us an update."

"Okay," Sara said. "Thanks."

With a parting smile for her colleagues, Sara walked out into the hallway. Warrick was leaning against the wall with his cell phone pressed against his ear. He gave Sara a smile and a nod.

"Okay," he said at last. "Got it. We're leaving now, so we'll be there in about twenty minutes. … Okay. Bye."

Warrick closed the phone and gave Sara a grin. "Hey, girl! Welcome back! How was your trip?"

"Great," Sara replied with a smile. "How was your weekend without me?"

Warrick shook his head as they started walking out of the building. "Busy. Did you know that Griss was gone this weekend, too?"

"Yeah, he was gone before I left," Sara said.

"That's right," Warrick said. "Man, it was intense without you guys! We were all pulling doubles and triples."

"I'm sorry," Sara said, giving him an apologetic smile.

"Hey, don't be. It's your right to have some time to yourself." He grinned. "I'll just expect the same understanding when I take a weekend off to take Tina out of town."

"When are you doing that?" Sara asked.

Warrick shrugged. "We're still trying to pick a time that will be convenient, but, I'll tell you, I think we could definitely use the time away."

"Yeah," Sara said. "Everyone needs a break now and then."

"Even you," Warrick teased. "The workaholic iron-woman finally crumbles and admits she needs a day off. Who would have thought that it could happen?"

"Oh, stop," Sara said, laughing. "Just for that, I'm going to make you take whatever the grossest task is tonight."

"It's only fair," Warrick said as they climbed into their SUV. "You need to ease yourself back into the whole 'working' thing."

"Oh, just drive."

* * *

Brass was waiting for them when they arrived at the scene of Sam Braun's rooftop implosion party. He smiled at them as they approached. Sara was almost reluctant to meet his eyes; she felt herself blushing as he looked at her. Brass smiled even wider, obviously still enjoying the very hot gossip he had uncovered.

"What's the story?" Warrick asked.

"The vic is Robert O'Brien," Brass said. "He was an investor in Sam's new project. Those kids over there found him; from what I could gather, they stumbled upon him while looking for a place to make out. They're going to wait around for awhile; I promised I'd talk to them more later. I still have to talk to Sam. I'm hoping he'll be able to tell us more about Mr. O'Brien."

"You said on the phone that it was an apparent suicide, but what do you think, Jim? Is this a suicide, or does it feel more like a homicide?" Warrick asked.

"Well, it could easily be a suicide," Brass replied. "The kids said they didn't see anyone near the body or running away from the scene. The gun is still with the vic. But, I think we all know that it's far too early to assume too much."

"Spoken like a politician," Sara said with a sly grin. "Has the coroner pronounced?"

"Last I heard, David was still en route," Brass replied.

"Well, let's start looking but not touching," Warrick said. "Brass, if you need us, we'll be hanging out with the dead guy."

"Have fun."

Brass took off in one direction to talk to Sam Braun, while Sara and Warrick made their way across the crowd to where Robert O'Brien was waiting for them. They set their kits down and opened them.

"I'll photo document the body," Warrick volunteered, taking out his camera.

"Fine by me," Sara replied. She grabbed a flashlight.

They stepped forward and took in the scene of the man seated with a gun in his hand, hunched forward. Sara began combing the immediate area for a suicide note, while Warrick began taking pictures.

After a few minutes of searching, Sara crouched down in front of the body. She shone her flashlight beam first on the gun clenched in his hand, then on the blood dripping from his mouth.

"Looks like he ate a 38 special," she commented.

"The gun's still _in his hand_," Warrick said incredulously. "How many suicides have you seen like that?"

"Personally?" Sara asked. "None."

"Yeah, I haven't, either," Warrick muttered, disappearing behind his camera again.

"I haven't found a suicide note," Sara said, glancing around again.

"Maybe it was staged," Warrick suggested.

Sara nodded slightly, then stood up and stepped back from the body.

"Sorry," David said as he joined them. "Got held up at the 'meet the future in-laws' dinner."

Sara nearly jumped. She had forgotten that David's fiancée's parents had invited him to dinner so their extended family could meet him before the wedding. For some reason, the idea made her almost sick. When, exactly, was it time to meet a significant other's family? Had she and Grissom reached that point? Deciding to start talking before she began too much self-analysis, she turned to look at him again.

"Did they love you?" she asked.

David made a face. "I got too excited talking about work," he said, kneeling down in front of the body. "They stopped eating."

"Oh," Sara said with understanding. Long experience had taught her that their job was not good dinner conversation.

"David, the gun is still in his hand, so it's yours to clear," Warrick said.

"Yes, sir," David agreed. He began a difficult battle to pull the gun from the victim's hand. "Rigor's setting in fast," he commented. "Happens when it's hot like tonight."

It all happened in an instant. One minute, David was struggling to pull the gun from the man's hand, the next, it discharged. David, Sara and Warrick all jumped back, shocked by what had happened.

"Are you all right?" Sara asked.

The partygoers began screaming. Sara walked away to reassure them, while Warrick put his hand on David's shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"At least we know one person who shot the dead guy," he said as Sara came back.

David did not appear to be all that comforted by Warrick's words, but Sara giggled. David looked up at her and shook his head.

"I fail to see the humor in this."

"Oh, David, it's fine," she said. "No one got hurt, and it's not like firing an extra bullet will ruin our investigation. Just … calm down, okay?"

"Yeah," he said, still a bit shaky. "Do you guys mind if I take a minute?"

"You do what you have to do," Warrick said.

"Thanks."

David walked away, and Warrick and Sara looked at each other.

"Poor David's having a rough night," Sara said.

"Yeah," Warrick agreed. "I guess meeting the in-laws will do that to you."

"Is this how you were after meeting Tina's parents?" Sara asked with a smile.

Warrick smiled. "By the time I met them, we were already married. Not much they could do other than accept me."

Sara laughed. "Or disown their daughter."

"Hey, who doesn't want their daughter married to a scientist?"

Sara shook her head. "I think I'd want my daughter married to a mechanic."

"Looking for someone to repair your car for cheap?"

"No," she smiled. "I'm just not sure I'd want her married to this life."

"Yeah," Warrick sighed, shaking his head. "It can definitely strain a marriage."

Sara looked up at him, her eyes wide with concern. "Warrick –"

"Okay," David said, rejoining them. "I'll clear the gun and we'll let you guys get to work."

"Thanks, Super Dave," Warrick said, picking up his camera again. "Sara, want to help Brass with the interviews?"

"Yeah, sure," she said.

As she walked away from Warrick, Sara glanced back. He was apparently absorbed in his task, snapping multiple pictures of every angle of the body. Still … Sara shook her head. She hoped that he was exaggerating about his marriage being strained.

"You okay?" Brass asked as Sara approached him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "David had some trouble prying the gun from the vic's hand."

Brass nodded. "That would be the one reason I was afraid to label it a suicide. How often does the suicide victim hang on to the gun?"

"Exactly," Sara said. "How are the interviews going?"

"Sam confirmed that Mr. O'Brien had invested a million dollars in the Eclipse," Brass said. "But, he didn't have too much to say other than that. I'm going to talk to O'Brien's partner – they came to the party together."

"I'll join you on that one," Sara said.

"He's right over here."

Joe Hirschoff appeared to be more than a little shaken. His face was ashen as he answered Brass's questions. Yes, he and Robert had come to the party together. Yes, they had been drinking. No, he was not with him at the time of the shooting. He had gone to get them margaritas; when he came back, Robert was gone. After searching for him for quite some time, he heard the girl's scream, which alerted him to what had happened.

"Are you taking any medication?" Brass asked.

Mr. Hirschoff reached into his jacket pocket and produced a pill vial. Sara pulled an evidence bag from her own pocket.

"May I see that?" she asked.

Brass worked to hide his grin as Grissom's influence came out in Sara. He was sure he could count on one hand the number of time he had heard her use the very proper "may" rather than the more informal "can" when asking a question; Grissom, on the other hand, was almost unfailingly grammatically correct. Clearly, she was adopting her boyfriend's speech patterns.

Sara took the bottle from Mr. Hirschoff and read the label. "Alprazolam?"

"It's for stress," Mr. Hirschoff said. "My job is very stressful."

"Does Mr. O'Brien own a gun?" Brass asked.

"No, he hates guns," Mr. Hirschoff replied. "We both do."

"Could you hold your hands out like this for me, please?" Sara asked.

"Why?"

"Gun shot residue test," Sara replied.

"Robert shot himself!"

"This is how we prove it," Brass said calmly.

"Right palm down," Sara said.

Looking well beyond annoyed, Mr. Hirschoff did as she asked.

As Sara began the test, she leaned over his hands and was struck by the smell of liquor.

"Am I smelling alcohol on your hands?" she asked.

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "When I saw Robert, I spilled the drinks."

Sara looked at him for a moment, then glanced at Brass, who nodded.

"Okay, Mr. Hirschoff, you're free to go. But, don't go too far – we may have more questions for you."

He frowned. "But, what about the test?"

"The alcohol on your hands renders it useless," Sara said. "It corrupts any GSR."

"So …?"

"So, don't go too far," Brass said again.

With one last parting dirty look, Mr. Hirschoff left them. Sara sighed.

"What do you think?"

"I think you've got a lot of work ahead of you," Brass replied.

Sara smiled. "Thanks, Jim. You're a peach."

He laughed.

"Hey, Sara, want to help me process the scene?" Warrick called.

Sara rolled her eyes. "First, he tells me to get lost. Now, he wants my help."

Brass chuckled. "It's so good to see you two playing nice."

Rolling her eyes again, Sara rejoined Warrick.

* * *

After gathering all the evidence they could from the scene, Sara and Warrick returned to the lab. Warrick took over processing the gun that had been found in the victim's hand; Sara began working with their crime scene photos.

She was still in the layout room, surrounded by pictures, when David found her.

"Hi, Sara," he said, entering the room almost slowly.

"Hey, David," she said cheerfully. "What brings you all the way over here?"

"I brought your vic's clothes," he said, holding up a sealed bag.

"Oh, those go to Warrick," Sara said at once. She fully intended to keep her word about Warrick dealing with the less aesthetically pleasing aspects of the case. "He's processing the vic's gun."

"Warrick. Right."

Sara looked at him closely. "Are you okay, David?"

He sighed, looking utterly miserable. "Sara, I am so sorry."

"So sorry for what? I'll give the clothes to Warrick if it's that much of a problem. You could have just sent them over with a courier, you know."

"No, I actually … I brought the clothes myself because I wanted to tell you what happened."

Sara frowned. "Okay …"

"I forgot to tape your vic shut," he said in a rush. "He bled out in the bag."

"He …" Sara's eyes grew round. "Oh."

David nodded miserably. "We'll never be able to test his hands for GSR. They're soaked in blood."

"David, it's okay," Sara said. "Warrick and I will figure it out. There are other ways to piece together what happened."

"Yeah, but I know that your suspect's hands were covered in alcohol, and –"

"David!" Sara interrupted. "It's fine. Really. GSR would have been the easiest thing to help us figure out if it really was a suicide, but, like I said, there are other ways." She smiled. "You know me. I love a challenge."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Just … stop worrying, okay? Warrick and I will always love you."

David finally smiled a very small smile. "Thanks, Sara."

She grinned and took the evidence bag from him. "I'll get this to Warrick, okay?"

"Thanks," he said again.

"No problem."

With one last parting smile, David left the layout room. Sara followed him, but turned in the opposite direction as she went in search of Warrick.

As anticipated, he was still working with the gun when she found him. She put the evidence bag on the counter next to him.

"What's this?" he asked, glancing up.

"The vic's clothes."

Warrick looked up at her fully. "Oh, no. I'm not taking the clothes. They're bloody! I had to deal with the blood-soaked clothes the last time I worked a case with you."

"And, you already said you'd take the gross stuff tonight." Sara's phone vibrated; she picked it up to read a text message from Dr. Robbins. "And, I've got to go. Doc's ready to give me his findings."

"Yeah, well, I hope they include some GSR on the guy's hands."

"Um … about that …"

Warrick looked up at her again. "Sara …"

"I just saw David," she said. "He forgot to tape Mr. O'Brien up before transport, so he bled out in the bag."

Warrick groaned. "So, we've lost all potential GSR on his hands?"

"Yeah," Sara said. "But, listen, leave David alone about it. He's upset enough without us coming down on him."

"Nah, I'd never give him a hard time about something like that. I know he's been having a tough night." Warrick's head snapped up again. "Wait! If he bled out in the bag, that means there's even _more_ blood on his clothes!"

"I'll bet you're right about that," Sara said. "Well, gotta run – I don't want to keep Doc waiting."

"You just wait till the next time we work a case together!" Warrick called after her as she nearly ran out the door.

The sound of Sara's laughter reached him even as she rushed down the hall.

* * *

"Hey, Doc, you tell me: Suicide or homicide?"

Doc Robbins turned to see Sara walking into his morgue, already dressed in her lab coat. "Either 'cide' at this point," he replied. "According to tox, BAC was .19."

"That's over twice the legal limit," Sara said, looking only mildly surprised.

"My guess, based on whiffing the stomach contents, tequila."

"You're good," Sara said with a slight smile. "He was drinking margaritas."

"Tox also found alprazolam in his blood stream," Robbins continued.

"Yeah, his partner has a prescription for it," Sara said. "He was also the one bringing him the drinks."

"Hand me that trajectory rod," Robbins said.

Sara did as he asked, then helped him raise Mr. O'Brien's body into a seated position. Doc Robbins inserted the trajectory rod, demonstrating the bullet's path straight through his mouth and head.

"However he got it, he would have been too stoned to stand," Robbins commented.

"It would have made it easier to stick a gun in his mouth at this angle," Sara said. She was suddenly quite glad that Brass had made sure that Mr. Hirschoff would remain in the area. He was looking more and more like a viable suspect.

Doc Robbins handed Sara a bowl containing two sesame seeds, explaining that he had found them in the victim's mouth, but not in his stomach.

Sara cocked her head to the side. "It's hard to swallow when you have a gun in your mouth."

"You're thinking homicide," Doc Robbins said.

Sara nodded. "Yeah, I am. I'm also thinking that I want to talk to his partner again."

Robbins nodded. "Well, I've given you everything I can for now. If I can help you anymore, let me know."

"Will do. Thanks, Doc."

"You're welcome, Sara."

* * *

Sara returned to the lab fully convinced that Joe Hirschoff was their primary suspect. Reading over the coroner's report as she walked down the hall, she wasn't looking where she was going as she rounded the corner and nearly ran straight into Grissom.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, reaching out to steady her.

"Sorry, Griss!" she said, grabbing his arms. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"That I can see," he said with a slight smile. He reluctantly released her and glanced at his watch. "You're here past shift."

"So are you," she said with a smile. "What a surprise."

"I suppose that's fair. Are you leaving soon?"

"No. I'm going to do a bit of research into my vic's business partner. Based on everything I just got from Doc Robbins, I think he could be the killer."

"Okay," he said. "You'll be here for awhile, then?"

"Yup."

He nodded. "I'll try to find you later."

Sara smiled. "See you later, then."

Grissom gave her a look that made her knees a bit weak. "See you."

Sara nearly danced through the lab.

* * *

Sara and Warrick had agreed on a time to meet in the break room to discuss their case. Sara arrived ahead of Warrick. She poured herself a cup of coffee and flipped on the tv. As usual, it was already on a local channel; she was surprised to see that Brass was on the news receiving an award.

"Hey," Warrick said as he came in.

"Look at this," Sara said, indicating the tv. "The Sheriff is giving Brass an award."

Warrick slid his folder onto the table and grinned as he looked up. His grin faded as he looked at Brass. "Brass looks like he's about to puke."

"Or punch someone," Sara agreed.

Warrick nodded and sat down across from her. They watched in silence until the award had been presented. Sara flipped off the tv as the commentary began.

Warrick was just opening his folder and starting to speak when Grissom entered the room carrying two Styrofoam containers. He gave Sara a smile as he approached.

"I got you a veggie burger," he said, leaning across Warrick to set one container down in front of her.

"Thanks," she replied, her eyes widening in surprise. She certainly had not expected that _I'll try to find you later_ meant _I'll bring you dinner_.

"What about me?" Warrick asked, his expression that of a child denied an ice cream cone.

"I didn't know you were here," Grissom said, straightening up. "Soy sorry."

Sara looked up to see Grissom staring at her. They exchanged a look that promised a far more exciting conversation later, and Grissom turned to leave.

"Where's the love?" Warrick asked.

Sara smiled at him as she opened the container.

"So, we found some gunk in the revolver's forcing cone," Warrick said, immediately getting to work. "Hodges ID'ed it as melted sesame seeds."

"Doc Robbins found sesame seeds in the vic's mouth," Sara said.

They continued to discuss their finding, sharing Sara's fries. Warrick had found that the gun used to kill Mr. O'Brien belonged to his partner.

"I'm really liking the partner for this," Sara said. "He was the one with the prescription for the drug found in the vic's system. He was the one bringing him drinks. He was the one who owned the gun, despite telling Brass and me that he hated them."

"Yeah, he certainly looks guilty," Warrick agreed. "Add that to the fact that he stands to inherit all Mr. O'Brien's shares in Sam Braun's Eclipse project, and you've got it all. He had the weapon. They were here together, so he certainly had opportunity. And, he had motive. I think, little girl, that we may have solved this one."

Sara nodded. "I'll have Brass talk to him again."

"And, I'll get a warrant for everything from their hotel suite. We need all the evidence we can find."

* * *

A search of O'Brien's and Hirschoff's luggage led them not to the suicide note they thought they might find in the Holy Bible, but to an oven mitt. Neither of them could understand why anyone would bring one oven mitt to a suite that didn't have a kitchen, but they were both nearly astounded to find sesame seeds in it.

Working with Hodges, Warrick found evidence that the oven mitt had been used to transport the gun. He informed Sara, who frowned.

"Great. So, we have a killer cook," she said. "Which one was it?"

"Therein lies the problem," Warrick said. He shook his head. "I don't know. How can we prove this?"

"We need to follow the sesame seeds," Sara said. "They've gotten us this far."

"Follow the sesame seeds," Warrick said with dawning understanding. "Of course! They made it from the oven mitt to the gun. Why not from the gun to the killer's pocket?"

"Want me to get a warrant for Mr. Hirschoff's party clothes?"

Warrick shook his head. "Before you do that, let me check the vic's clothes. Let's rule him out as a suspect first."

Sara smiled. "Have fun with those clothes."

Warrick made a face at her, and left to complete his task.

Warrick had no sooner left the room than Sara's phone rang. She picked it up.

"This is Sara."

"Sara, I have some more news about your apparent suicide," Doc Robbins said. "I've been digging a bit, and found out that he suffered from Dupuytren's Contraction."

Sara frowned. "I've never heard of that."

"It causes a slow, progressive fibrosis of the palmar fascia," Robbins explained. "Basically, it would cause the tissues in his hands to thicken, causing the muscles to contract."

Sara's frown deepened. "Doc … would that make it impossible for him to release a gun after shooting himself?"

"Most certainly," he said. "But, to us, it would merely appear to be rigor. David said he was shot at an outdoor party on a very hot night; his assumption was that the heat had sped up the process. Under normal circumstances, he would have been completely right about that. But, with this particular case, what we took for rigor was not."

"Oh, my," Sara said. "This is looking more and more like a suicide. Thanks, Doc."

"You're welcome, my dear."

* * *

"Hey."

Sara, sitting alone in the break room, reading a journal, looked up as Grissom walked in. "Hi," she smiled.

"How's the case going?"

"I'll know as soon as I hear from Warrick," she said. "We'll either have it solved or we'll be calling for a warrant for our suspect's clothes."

"Sounds like you're doing well, then."

"We are," she agreed. "You?"

"Catherine and Nick are like machines," he said with a grin. "I can't get them to go home at this point."

Sara laughed. "Well, going home sounds like a pretty good idea for me. I think Warrick and I have worked three doubles in a row on this one."

"How about going to my home?" Grissom asked quietly.

Sara grinned. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "Come over when you're done."

"I will," she agreed.

Grissom smiled again as he stood to leave. "See you soon."

Sara opened her mouth to say good bye, but was cut off by the ringing of her phone. She smiled at Grissom and answered the phone.

"Hi, Warrick."

"Sara, it was a suicide," he said. "There are sesame seeds in O'Brien's pocket."

Sara exhaled. "Well. I guess we had the wrong guy. According to Doc, O'Brien also had a medical condition that would have made it impossible for him to release the gun."

"Definitely suicide, then," Warrick said.

"Okay. I'll meet you in the layout room."

"See you."

* * *

They worked together to write their final report, which Sara volunteered to deliver to Grissom.

"You're sure you don't mind?" Warrick asked as he prepared to leave. "I'll talk to him so you can go home."

"Warrick, you're the one who has a wife to go home to," Sara said. "You need the time more than me."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "Thanks."

"No problem."

They both left the layout room; Warrick to go home and Sara to find Grissom.

She found him in his office, preparing to leave. She smiled as she walked in.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he replied. "Wrap the case?"

"We did," she said, handing him their report. "We were wrong in accusing the vic's partner. The trail of sesame seeds proved it. It was suicide after all."

"That's the first time I've seen a suicide where the gun stays in the vic's hand," Grissom said, glancing up from the report to look at Sara.

"I have an explanation for that, too," she said. "Dupuytren's Contracture. It's a rare condition, characterized by progressive fibrosis of the palmar fascia. The tissues thicken, contracting the fingers. He couldn't let go of the gun. The condition was still in its early stages, which is why it looked like rigor."

"Do we have any idea why he killed himself?" Grissom asked.

"Depression, maybe?" Sara suggested. "You know, according to my supervisor, we're not really in the business of _why_, but –"

Sara's phone began to ring, cutting her off. She picked it up and read the short text telling her to bring Robert O'Brien's personal affects to PD to be picked up.

"I gotta go," she said.

"Bye," Grissom said.

She gave him a look full of promise for _later_, and hurried out of his office.

* * *

"Hey," Sara said to the receptionist as she arrived at PD. "I just got a message saying Joe Hirschoff was waiting for me? He's here to collect his partner's personal affects?"

"He's right over there," the receptionist said, indicating the hallway where Mr. Hirschoff was sitting alone.

Sara glanced in the correct direction and nodded. "Thanks."

As she walked toward him, she was struck by the fact that Mr. Hirschoff looked like a lost soul. He was leaning forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands. Taking a deep breath, Sara approached him.

"Mr. Hirschoff?"

He looked up. "Ms. Sidle."

She nodded and extended a sealed evidence bag toward him. "These are Robert's personal affects," she said. "You'll need to sign for them."

He took the bag and began searching through it without even acknowledging her request for a signature. Finally locating the one item he sought, he pulled a ring identical to the one he wore from the bag. He slid it onto his left ring finger, joining it with his.

Sara's breath caught in her throat. She had assumed that the two men's relationship went no further than a business partnership. Apparently, they had been engaged in a far more intimate partnership.

He looked up at her with tear-filled eyes and extended his hand for the clipboard she held. She gave it to him and watched as he signed for Mr. O'Brien's things.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," she said quietly as he stood up.

He stared at her for a long moment, then turned without a word and walked away. Sara exhaled.

The two men had kept their relationship a secret, letting the world believe that they were merely business partners – colleagues. When something so tragic as death happened, no one knew, no one fully understood the pain the one who was left behind was experiencing.

Would it be any different for her and Grissom? To the outside world, they were merely colleagues. It was only in their world, with just the two of them, that they could let down their guard and have their _real_ relationship.

_No, _shetold herself firmly_, it's not the same. We're both fine. Nothing like this will happen to us. We'll never be accused of murdering each other. _

Even so, she suddenly had to see Grissom. She couldn't get to his house quickly enough.

* * *

Grissom was already there and waiting for her when Sara arrived. Classical music was playing as she walked through the front door.

"Hello?" she called.

"Hey," Grissom said, walking up the stairs to meet her. He pulled her in for a long kiss. "I was starting to worry about you."

"If I knew it would make you kiss me like that, I'd let you worry about me more often."

Grissom smiled and kissed her again. "Come on. Let's sit down."

Sara let him lead her to the couch, where they cuddled up together.

"You know," Sara said, "I never really thanked you for bringing me the burger the other day."

Grissom smiled. "Sorry about that whole thing with Warrick. I shouldn't have given it to you in front of him like that. Did he say anything?"

"No," she said. "I shared my fries, so he was happy."

Grissom smiled even wider. "Good. I'm glad no one suspects anything. I like doing things like that at work. It makes it seem …"

"Special?" Sara suggested.

"Special," Grissom agreed. He fell silent for a moment. "You know, Catherine and Nick went dancing."

Sara arched one eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me something with that?"

Grissom smiled. "They invited me to come along."

"Did you want to go?" Sara asked. "You could have. It wouldn't have been a problem. We can spend time together tomorrow."

"No, I didn't want to go," Grissom replied. He smiled. "I'd far rather dance with you."

Sara smiled. "We're not dancing, dear."

"Sure we are." He stood up and held his hand out to her. "May I have this dance?"

Sara smiled and took his hand. "I love to dance with you."

Grissom pulled her into his arms and began slow dancing with her. Sara sighed with contentment and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Can we just stay like the forever?"

"That would be wonderful," Grissom sighed, pulling her even closer.

They danced for a few more minutes before they were interrupted by the ringing of Grissom's cell phone. He sighed.

"Sorry, Sara. I'm on call."

"Not a problem," she said, stepped back.

Grissom turned down the music before answering the phone. Sara gave him a smile, then sat back down on the couch.

"I'm sorry," Grissom said at last, closing his phone and sitting down beside her.

"What happened?"

"Izzy Delancy died."

Sara frowned. "Isn't he a singer?"

"That's right."

"So, it's a high-profile case."

"Exactly. I have no idea how long I'll be."

Sara touched his cheek. "Have fun."

"Stay close to the phone," Grissom said. "I'll call you if I need you."

"I'll be here."


	62. Torn Loyalties

A/N: This chapter ends in something of a cliffhanger, particularly if you're familiar enough with the episode to know where I cut it off. But, because of what I have planned for it, I wanted to divide it this way. I think you'll get it in the end.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 703, "Built to Kill, Part 2."

* * *

_Torn Loyalties_

Sara was pulled from a dream by the ringing of her cell phone. Shaking the sleep from her eyes, she reached for it.

"Hello?" she asked groggily.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"It's me. Did I wake you?"

"Maybe a little …"

"I'm sorry," Grissom said. "I need you at my scene."

"Okay," Sara said, finally fully waking up. "Where are you?"

"Izzy Delancy's house."

"Oh, that's right. Your dead singer."

"Right. I … I really need your opinion on this."

Sara frowned. She had never heard that tone in his voice before. He sounded a little unsure of himself. And concerned. And almost freaked out. And, at the same time, excited.

"Can you be here? Soon?"

"Yeah, I'm on my way," she said, finally breaking her silence. "I just want to take a shower first."

"Okay. I'll see you soon, then."

"Right," Sara replied. "Bye."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone and hurried out of bed. All that Grissom had said told her not to keep him waiting for long.

* * *

An hour later, Sara arrived at the scene. Police officers were swarming everywhere, checking identification far more carefully than usual. Sara had to show her credentials to five different officers before she was allowed to cross the tape.

She finally found Sofia as she approached the front door. Sofia grinned at the sight of Sara shaking her head.

"They're trying to keep the paparazzi away," Sofia explained. "Izzy Delancy was quite the star in his day."

"Yeah, everyone wants the first pictures of the dead, washed up singer," Sara said with a grim smile. "Where's Grissom?"

"In the kitchen with the body."

"Okay. Thanks."

Sara left Sofia and made her way through the palatial house, finally finding the kitchen in the back. Grissom was there, staring at something on the counter.

"Hey," Sara said. She looked at Izzy Delancy, who was slumped over the kitchen table. "So, this is Izzy Delancy, huh?"

"Yeah," Grissom said. "Come here; I want you to see this."

Sara crossed to join him, stopping short when she realized what had him so fascinated. "Wait. What is this?"

"Take a look," Grissom invited.

Sara pulled out her flashlight, using it to illuminate the tiny model on the counter. "Is this … the crime scene?"

"Yes."

"In miniature?"

"Yes."

She shook her head, staring in silence at the model for a long time. Finally, her eyes began to dart back and forth between the real, life-size kitchen she was standing in and the tiny, replicated kitchen in front of her. It was an exact copy, down to the pictures on the counter and the paper on the table.

"I think Malibu Barbie did it," she said at last, breaking her long silence.

"Well, then there's a lot more to Barbie than just a pretty face," Grissom said. "'Cause this is a _perfect_, half-inch scale model of the room. And, assuming the killer is the same person who made the miniature …"

"It would have taken weeks … maybe even _months_ to create," Sara said. "This kind of detail certainly qualifies as premeditation."

"Yeah, but take a look at the blood pools," Grissom said.

Sara did as he asked. "They're identical."

"There's no predicting a blood pool," Grissom said. "It's inherently random."

"Killer must have stuck around to match the scene," Sara said. She stepped away to look at the rest of the room.

"It's real blood," Grissom said after a moment, holding up a swab.

"_That_," Sara said, "is a level of obsession that gives even you a run for your money."

Grissom raised his eyebrows in silent acknowledgement. Sara had been teasing him about his obsessive tendencies since they had met.

Sara raised her flashlight to illuminate the framed gold records displayed on the wall. "_If Dusty Fell_, Izzy Delancy," she read.

"It was his biggest hit," Grissom said.

"I have never heard of him," Sara said in disbelief, turning to look at Grissom.

"Probably before your time," Grissom said.

Sara made a face. Would he _ever_ stop referencing the difference in their ages? "I'll download it."

They discussed Izzy's manner of death for a moment; Sara noted that it looked as though he had been hit over the head once with a heavy object.

"It would take someone pretty strong to kill him with one hit," she said.

"And, someone he knew well," Grissom added. "They got very close without him putting up a fight."

"But, they hit him from behind," Sara said. "Maybe he didn't realize anyone was with him."

"But, they had to create the miniature," Grissom countered. "You said yourself that it would have taken weeks just to build it. Let's not forget the amount of time that went into detailing even the smallest elements of this room. This had to be someone who knows this room like the back of his hand – someone who is here on a near daily basis."

"True," Sara said, crossing to look at the miniature again. She shivered slightly. "Even the countertops match. The pattern of the tile on the floor. Griss … this is almost scary."

"I know," he said. "But, at the same time … it's impressive."

Sara smiled slightly, remembering that Grissom had sounded somewhat excited when she had talked to him on the phone. This mystery, this puzzle … solving it would be an incredible challenge, but one that he would embrace with open arms.

"Hello, there."

They looked up to see Doc Robbins and David entering the room together.

"Hey, Doc," Sara said. "What brings you out?"

"Izzy Delancy," he said with a grin. "I wouldn't miss this scene for the world."

"Scrapbook photo first?" David asked.

"Of course."

Sara and Grissom exchanged a grin as Robbins took out his personal camera.

Sara's phone rang; she picked it up to read _Catherine_ across the screen. She flipped it open.

"Hi, Catherine."

"Sara," Catherine said, "where are you?"

"At a scene with Grissom," Sara replied.

"A scene with Grissom," Catherine repeated. Her words were slow and measured, but that did nothing to mask the panic in her voice. "Can you … I need you, Sara. I need your help."

"Catherine, what's going on?" Sara asked, terrified by Catherine's panic.

"I just … I don't want to explain it over the phone. Tell Grissom that I need you at another scene, and that I'll let you go back to him as soon as possible. Will you do that, then meet me the Palm Tree Inn?"

"Why are you there?"

"Sara, _please_," Catherine said, desperation seeping into her voice. "I really need you to come right now."

"Okay," Sara said calmly, "okay. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you," Catherine said, her relief evident. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

Sara slowly closed her phone and turned to Grissom. "That was Catherine," she said. "She needs me at another scene, but she promised that I could come back to you as soon as possible."

"Okay," Grissom said without question. "Can you call Greg in to replace you? He's on call today."

"Sure," Sara said, opening her phone again.

Her only hope was that Greg was within three miles of the crime scene. She needed to get across town as soon as possible.

* * *

Greg did arrive quickly; Sara met him outside, wanting to leave as soon as she could. Greg came up the driveway on foot, giving Sara a look of disbelief.

"Oh, great, you're here," she said as she met him, walking him up to the house. "Thanks for coming."

"I can't believe you're leaving Izzy Delancy's death scene," he said. "The _groupies_ are already starting to gather!"

"I have something I need to take care of," she said. "Nick and Sofia are talking with the family, Grissom's in the kitchen … You can … process the bedrooms?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod.

"Thanks," Sara said, patting his shoulder before taking off down the driveway again.

She had to hurry. Catherine was waiting.

* * *

Sara pulled into the parking lot of the Palm Tree Inn, wondering what had brought Catherine to this very seedy part of town. She scanned the building and saw Catherine standing outside the main office, clutching a hotel ice bucket. Sara parked and climbed out of the car; she never took her eyes off Catherine as she walked toward her.

Catherine looked ravaged. Her dress was crumpled, her hair straggly, and, for the first time in all the years Sara had known her, she was outside her house without wearing make up. Her appearance alone told Sara that something was terribly wrong.

"Hey," Sara said as she reached her. "What's going on?"

"I may have been Roofied and raped," Catherine said without preamble. "I woke up here."

"What?" Sara exclaimed, a vague memory of Grissom telling her that Catherine and Nick had gone out dancing floating through her head. She shook her head in utter disbelief.

"I … improvised my own rape kit," Catherine said, beginning to lead Sara across the parking lot. "Got – pubic – combing …" That first horrible confession past her, she fell into a profession, almost detached manner of speaking as she continued, "nail scrapings, vaginal swab, urine sample –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sara said, cutting her off. "Did you call it in?"

"I called _you_," Catherine said, turning to look Sara in the eye for the first time since admitting her fear that she had been raped. All professional detachment was gone, replaced by all the fear of a victim.

"Catherine," Sara said slowly, "doing it yourself is going to make anything you get inadmissible."

"Yeah, I know procedure. I didn't _want_ an official investigation, I – I just wanna know what happened."

"Okay," Sara said, "all right."

Catherine finally stopped walking and turned to look at Sara again. "I gotta get this stuff to the lab. Room 229 – it's right up there – please print it? And … keep it between us?"

"Okay," Sara promised quietly, nodding her agreement.

"Thanks," Catherine whispered, her fragile grip on control slipping.

Fighting back tears, she turned from Sara and hurried to the waiting cab. Sara watched her go, then climbed the stairs to the motel room.

Her first thought was that Catherine must have made a mistake. There was no way Catherine Willows had spent a night in a place like this. The torn curtains, the dirty carpeting, the stained bedspread … the thought that people actually paid to stay in this motel made Sara shiver.

She began the time-consuming, painstaking task of printing the room. As she worked, she thought of the first hotel room she had printed under the watchful eyes of Carl and Anne. She had lifted hundreds of prints. Thrilled with her work, she had wanted to run them all herself. Carl had allowed it, thinking that doing it once would be enough to teach her how valuable the lab's print techs were. The lesson had worked; after spending three days staring at ridge detail, she had been more than happy to leave her stacks of hotel room prints with a tech.

This time, however, she would run them herself. She would keep her promise to Catherine. No one would but the two of them learn of what had happened.

The reality was that Sara was terribly confused. The longer she worked, the more evidence of Catherine she found in the room – and the more nothing made sense. Catherine had gone out with Nick. How could she possibly have been drugged? Catherine was a smart woman – she knew better than to leave her drink alone. And, Nick certainly knew better than to let her go home with a stranger. Even college sophomores knew to keep their friends close when they went to clubs.

How could Nick have let something like this happen? Sara wanted so much to call him, to ask what had happened, but she couldn't do it. She had promised Catherine that she would keep it quiet, and she would.

* * *

Sara was in the print lab, searching for matches to the thirtieth print from the motel room when Sofia found her.

"Hey," she said. "Did Grissom find prints on the miniature?"

Sara looked up in surprise. She hadn't talked to Grissom since she had left him at his crime scene. She couldn't have even told Sofia where he was. "Um … no, these are from a different case."

"Oh," Sofia said, looking confused. "I thought Grissom had all of grave on the Izzy Delancy case."

"He let me help Catherine on her case," Sara said shortly.

"But, you're still on the Izzy Delancy case?"

"Yes," Sara said, starting to get annoyed. "Is there something you need?"

"I think I may have found motive in your case."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Okay …"

"Nick and I interviewed Izzy's entire family – and, let me tell you, they are an odd bunch. You have Dusty, the first wife, who is his son's mother. The son, Sven, is a teenager – fairly moody, spends very little time with Dad. Izzy's current wife is Madeline. They have a daughter together, Emma, who is just a baby. From what I gathered, Madeline isn't all that involved with Emma – Annie, the nanny, seems to be the one raising her."

"Wait," Sara said, a smile breaking through, "the nanny's name is actually Annie?"

"Yeah," Sofia grinned. "And, according to evidence Greg found, she's sleeping with Izzy. In Sven's bed."

"Freud would love this family," Sara grinned.

"Pretty much. But, here's where the motive comes in: Izzy was engaged in negotiations with the Olympia Casino. He owned the rights to his music; they wanted to buy them to produce a medley show. They're looking to produce the next _Mama Mia!_"

"Where did you get all this?"

Sofia rolled her eyes. "I just spent two hours with the Sheriff, the casino representatives and an army of lawyers. Izzy didn't sign the papers before he died, so the rights to his music default to Sven."

"Didn't you say that Sven's a teenager? Can he inherit them?"

"No," Sofia said. "For now, everything will be controlled by Dusty."

"Sven's mother," Sara clarified.

"Right."

"Okay," Sara said slowly, "but, what if one of them committed the murder?"

"Then, the rights go to Madeline."

"Well, that's some serious motive. I'll bet the casino was willing to pay quite a bit for the rights to his songs."

"Yeah, they were," Sofia agreed. "I have their copies of all the documents logged in as evidence."

"Great," Sara said. "Anything else I should know?"

"Not yet," Sofia said. "But, a trip to see the wives may be in order in the foreseeable future. Want in?"

Sara grinned. "You bet." She began putting away all the prints she had been running. "I'll bring Grissom up to speed."

"Thanks," Sofia said. "I've got a meeting with our legal counsel to go over the documents for the purchase of the rights in about twenty minutes."

Sara grinned. "Have fun with that."

Sofia shook her head with a smile. "Thanks. I'll call you if I get anything new."

"Yeah, I'll do the same."

They left the print lab together and parted ways. Sara went to the evidence locker to lock up her prints from the motel, then went on a journey to find Grissom.

She found him in the layout room, surrounded by photos from the crime scene. The miniature was on the table in front of him; he was apparently autopsying the tiny model of Izzy Delancy.

"Find something?" she asked.

"No," he said, looking up at her. "No prints, no hairs, no fibers. Materials are common hobby shop issue. But, the blood matches the victim."

"You interested in motive?" Sara asked.

Grissom looked at her, silently urging her to continue.

Sara repeated what Sofia had told her about the rights to Izzy's songs and the line of inheritance, ending with Madeline.

"Well, that's motive for her," Grissom said. "But, how does _this_ fit in?" He pointed to the miniature with the scalpel he had used to autopsy the doll.

Ecklie walked into the layout room in time to hear Grissom's question. "Maybe we should release it to the media," he suggested. "Someone might have unwittingly made a component of the miniature. If they came forward, that could help us."

"What's the point of gratifying the murderer with publicity?" Grissom asked, frowning.

"Izzy Delancy is famous; the press wants answers," Ecklie insisted.

"Don't we all?" Grissom asked with a slight shrug.

Realizing that he was getting nowhere with Grissom, Ecklie turned to Sara. "Sara, this is your case, too. What do you think?"

"I … uh …" Sara glanced down at the miniature, then back up at Ecklie, "agree with Grissom."

Ecklie looked between them, his irritation evident. "Of course you do."

He stalked off, and Grissom and Sara looked at each other in surprise. Sara began to shake her head.

"No," she said quietly.

"No," Grissom agreed. "There's no way he would have left it at that."

Sara grinned. "Good. Although, I have to say, if he's that upset over the idea that we get along, I'd hate to think what he'd do if …"

Grissom smiled. "It won't happen, so there's no point in thinking about it."

"True." Sara glanced at her watch. "I've got to go. I've still got some stuff to do for Catherine."

Grissom frowned. "What does Catherine have you doing, Sara? This is a high profile case, and right now we have very little to go on. I need you working on this."

Sara bit her lip. "I …"

Grissom's frown deepened. "What is going on here, Sara? Is there something I need to know?"

"No," she said. "It's fine. I'm going to find Greg and see what he's got so far."

Grissom nodded, but the questions still lingered in his eyes. "Okay. Keep me posted."

"I will."

Sara left the layout room feeling awful. Ever since she had started working with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, Grissom and Catherine had been a united front. They had worked together almost seamlessly, supporting each other and sharing work and CSIs without question. For the first time, Sara felt as though she was being pulled between them. To work on Grissom's case meant delaying getting Catherine the results she desperately needed. But, to work on Catherine's case meant defying her supervisor – and, lying to her boyfriend.

There was no good answer. Sara settled for a compromise. She pulled out her phone and called Greg.

"Hello, Sensei," he said in greeting.

"Hey," she said. "How's everything going?"

"I'm working on the key Doc Robbins pulled from Izzy's stomach right now," he said.

"Okay," she replied. "Can you make sure you tell Grissom everything? He's becoming totally obsessed."

Greg chuckled. "And that's different from his usual _how_, exactly?"

Sara made a face. "More obsessed than usual, then. Just … keep him updated."

"Anything to keep his blood pressure down."

"Thanks, Greg."

"No problem."

Sara hung up the phone and sighed. Confident that Greg would keep Grissom happy, she went back to the print lab. She would help Catherine find her answers before she did anything else.


	63. Panic

A/N: There were moments when I was sure this would never be ready to post tonight, but it came together in the end. I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 703, "Built to Kill, Part 2."

* * *

_Panic_

"Hey."

Sara looked up as Catherine entered the print lab, closing the door behind her. "Hi."

"Have you found anything?" Catherine asked, crossing the room to join Sara.

"Plenty," Sara sighed. "You know how hotel rooms are. I lifted hundreds of prints, and I've gotten quite a few matches. Ruling them out, though, will be tough."

"Yeah," Catherine said. She sat down next to Sara and stared at the rapidly flashing fingerprints that ran across the screen. "I've got nothing so far."

Sara raised an eyebrow.

"No physical evidence as of yet to say that I was raped," Catherine clarified.

Sara exhaled. "That's good news."

"It is," Catherine agreed. "But, it also makes it harder to determine who did this." She paused and bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth for a minute. "I'm still waiting for results from Hodges," she finally confessed. "He's testing for spermicide."

Sara nodded. "Catherine …"

"Do you know what a complete loss of control feels like?" Catherine asked. "Do you know what it's like to have no idea what happened to you?"

Sara shook her head.

"I was a stripper, Sara," Catherine said. "Every night, I danced on a stage and took off my clothes, hanging on to a pole to keep the guys from pulling me off the stage and into their laps. And, you know what? The entire time I did that, nothing like this ever happened. I was never drugged. Never assaulted. Never raped. But, now, when I have a fantastic job … a relatively safe job … a job I love … I go out one night and something like this …" She trailed off and shook her head. "You just never know, do you?"

Sara shook her head again, completely at a loss for words.

Catherine looked at her watch. "Shit. I'm late. I've got to go get Lindsey. I was supposed to go watch the end of her rehearsal. I'll never make it now." She jumped up from her seat and started for the door.

"Catherine," Sara said quietly, finally finding her voice.

Catherine stopped with her hand on the doorknob and turned to look at Sara. "Yeah?"

Sara's eyes softened. "If there's anything I can do …"

Catherine gave her a slight smile. "You already are. Thank you, Sara. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Yeah," Sara said quietly. "You're welcome."

Catherine nodded slightly and left the lab.

Sara exhaled and returned to her task, more determined than ever to find out who had done this to Catherine.

* * *

Sara was still trying to match prints when her cell phone beeped to alert her to a text message. She picked it up distractedly and flipped it open to read the words on the small screen.

_Text message from: Grissom_

_911! LAYOUT ROOM!_

Panic already spreading through her, Sara abandoned her prints and nearly ran to the layout room. She had received many text messages summoning her to meetings, but never anything like that.

Sara rushed into the layout room, where Nick, Greg and Grissom were waiting for her.

"What's going on?" she asked breathlessly.

"Lindsey's been abducted," Grissom said without preamble.

Sara felt the blood drain from her face. "What?" she exclaimed.

Greg and Nick both looked as horrified as Sara.

"When?" Greg asked.

"Are we going to the scene?" Nick asked.

Grissom held up his hands for quiet. "Catherine picked Lindsey up from a dance rehearsal. They were on their way home when they were struck by another car. Lindsey was taken from the backseat of Catherine's car. Medics, unis, Brass and Warrick are at the scene right now."

"Oh, my God," Sara exclaimed. "Could this be the same people …" She trailed off, realizing what she had nearly divulged.

"The same people?" Nick asked. "What are you talking about, Sara?"

"Nothing."

"Sara," Grissom said, a warning edge to his voice, "if you know something that could help us, now would be the time to share it."

Sara drew a deep breath. She had given Catherine her word, but, in this case, she decided that breaking it was the best option. "Catherine … was drugged. Roofied."

"What?" Greg exclaimed. "When?"

Sara glanced at Nick apologetically. "Last night, when she and Nick went dancing."

Grissom and Greg turned as one to look at Nick, whose mouth dropped open.

"Sara, what are you saying?" he asked slowly.

"I'm saying that she has no memory of what happened to her from the time she turned down a man's offer to buy her a drink until she woke up alone and naked in a seedy motel room the next morning."

Horror crossed Nick's face. "I left her alone," he said, licking his suddenly dry lips. "I started dancing with this girl … she suggested going somewhere else … I …" He jumped up from his seat and ran from the room with his hand clamped over his mouth.

"I'm sorry," Sara said quietly to the other two men. "I didn't mean to …"

"Why didn't you tell us, Sara?" Grissom asked.

"Catherine wanted me to keep it between us," she said. "We were handling everything."

"Catherine handled evidence?" Grissom exclaimed. "None of that is admissible! She might have cost herself a conviction!"

"She knows," Sara said quietly. "She said she didn't want a conviction. She just wanted answers."

Grissom scrubbed his hands over his face. "I refused to go to the scene because I was afraid that I wouldn't be objective enough to handle Lindsey's kidnapping, and now I find out that her mother was running her own rape investigation." He looked at Sara with fire in his eyes. "Is this why you left Izzy Delancy's murder scene? Why I haven't been able to find you to help us with the investigation? Because you've been helping Catherine smash lab policies?"

Greg glanced between them. "I'd better go see if Nick's okay," he mumbled, nearly running from the room.

"That's rich," Sara spat at Grissom, barely noticing that Greg had spoken or left. "I think you _smash a few lab policies_ every time you look at me, don't you? Or, has the lab decided that it's perfectly fine for a supervisor to sleep with one of his CSIs?"

Grissom looked stunned. "That's completely different."

"Oh, really? Why is that? Because you care about me? Well, I care about Catherine, too, Grissom. She's my friend, she's in pain, she needed my help … and, I gave it to her. I'm not sorry that I did what I did."

Grissom stared at her, holding her eyes, watching as she refused to back down under his fiery glare. Finally, he blinked, ending their staring contest.

"Fine," he said. "What's done is done. We need to deal with getting Lindsey home. We can talk about everything else later."

"Fine," Sara agreed. "What do you need me to do?"

"What evidence have you and Catherine collected?"

"I've been working on fingerprints from the motel room," Sara said.

Grissom nodded. "Let's start looking at the IDs you've got so far. We don't have much to go on, but it's a start."

Sara nodded and left the room.

Grissom watched her go and exhaled deeply. Catherine had been one of his best friends for years, and Sara was the person he was closest to in the world. How had they kept something like this from him?

* * *

Sara stopped her near-run to the print lab when she came upon Nick and Greg. They were sitting on a bench in the hall; Greg was giving Nick a stick of gum.

"Hey," Sara said, sitting down beside Nick.

"Hey," Nick replied in a strangled voice. He shook his head. "Sara, I never meant –"

"I know," Sara interrupted. "And, more importantly, Catherine knows. She's not blaming you, Nick."

"I left her alone at a _bar_," Nick said, his self-disgust more than evident. "What was I thinking? College kids know better."

"Yeah," Sara agreed, "but, college kids are out with their college friends. You were out with an adult, Nicky. Catherine doesn't need a babysitter anymore."

"Yeah, but –"

"Listen," Sara said, grabbing his hand, "you didn't do anything wrong. Okay? This isn't your fault. Now, if you want to help Catherine and Lindsey, go find Grissom and let him give you a job. We've got to pull together now, Nick. We have to work together to find Lindsey."

"Sara's right," Greg said. "Pull yourself together and get to work."

A ghost of a smile floated across Nick's face. "You two really know how to give a guy a kick in the ass, don't you?"

Sara and Greg exchanged a grin.

"That's why we're here."

* * *

Warrick drove Catherine back to the lab. She was slowly calming down; by the time she found Grissom, she was at a controlled panic.

Grissom took one look at her and did something he had not done in years: He pulled her into a tight, comforting hug. Catherine clung to him for a long moment, struggling not to cry. Grissom rubbed her back gently, then released her.

"We'll find her," he promised.

"I know," she said softly. "I just wish we already had. Is my car here yet?"

Grissom nodded. "I'll walk with you."

"Thanks," Catherine said as they began their progress down the hall to the garage.

"I talked to Sara," Grissom said slowly.

Catherine drew a sharp breath. "She told you what happened last night?"

"She told me that you were Roofied and woke up in a motel room."

Catherine nodded slowly. "I asked her not to say anything," she said. "I just …" She shook her head and pressed her lips together, regaining her control. "I panicked," she confessed. "I was alone, in a motel room, lying in a bed without my clothes … and I had no idea how any of it had happened. I didn't know what to do, so I called Sara to help me. She's been wonderful."

Grissom nodded, but remained silent.

"I should have told you, but I didn't want a sermon," Catherine continued. "I did my own rape kit. It came back negative."

"Thank God," Grissom said softly. He paused, pulling himself back from "friend" to "colleague." "These events have to be connected. We'll check your old cases for suspects. I'll ask Ecklie if he can kick in anybody from day shift."

"I appreciate that," Catherine said, her voice breaking slightly. She struggled to maintain her self-control. She couldn't let Grissom's kindness be her undoing.

"You've gotta stay at arm's length, Catherine," Grissom cautioned.

She nodded. "I – I know."

Grissom watched as she walked into the garage, where Nick was lifting prints from her car.

"Any luck on the prints?" she asked.

"Nothing but partials."

Grissom sighed and turned away. This was going to be difficult; the fact that Lindsey was like a niece to him made it even worse.

"Hey."

Grissom turned to see Sara coming toward him with a file in hand. He tried to smile at her, but failed.

"I have a list of all the IDs I've gotten from the motel room so far. I have to warn you, it's lengthy."

"Well, I expected that," Grissom said, taking the file from her. "In that part of town, most of the guests would have a record."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. She shook her head and looked through the window into the garage, where Nick was still working and Catherine was answering a call on her cell phone. "Anything yet?"

"Nicky's only getting partials from the car. Catherine's given everything she can remember to Warrick; he's trying to make her account jive with his crime scene photos right now." Grissom shook his head. "They found acceleration marks at the scene. They're sure it was a two man job."

Sara nodded. "It would have to be. If this is how Catherine's car looks, there's no way the car that hit her would be drivable."

"Exactly. Nick's already processed that car; it was sold yesterday. Cash transaction."

Sara nodded again and looked at him for a minute. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Grissom turned away from watching Nick print the door handles of Catherine's car and nodded. "I'm fine."

"Gil …"

"I'm okay, Sara."

"I have to go talk to Sam."

Sara and Grissom both turned to see Catherine running out of the garage. Grissom reached out to grab her arm before she could run past him.

"Why?" he asked. "Have you received a ransom request?"

Catherine shook her head. "No, nothing like that. It was Sam who called me. He … he already knew about Lindsey. She's been gone less than an hour, and he _knew_. He said it was because we live in a small town, but I just know … I know this has something to do with him. Everything that happened to me, that's happening to her … Sam is connected to it. I have to find out what he knows."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Grissom offered.

"No," Catherine said with a shake of her head. "No, if you're there, he'll never talk. If I go alone, I've got a chance."

"Okay," Grissom said. "Okay. We'll be right here, waiting."

"I know." Catherine pulled her arm from his grip and started down the hall.

"Cath?"

She stopped and turned to look at Grissom again. "Yeah?"

"Be careful."

She smiled slightly. "I'll do my best."

* * *

Catherine returned from her meeting with Sam carrying two pictures. The first was of her lying naked and unconscious in the bed at the motel room. They all agreed quite easily that that picture had been sent to Sam to rattle him. The men had never intended to hurt Catherine as much as they wanted to hurt Sam.

The second picture, however, showed Lindsey. She was duct taped to a chair in an otherwise empty room. Strips of duct tape covered her mouth and eyes. She sat limply in the chair, but she was alive.

Warrick took the picture from Catherine and rushed to the A/V lab to begin processing it. Catherine followed him at a run. Moments later, Nick's phone rang; Mandy had gotten a hit on a print he had lifted from Catherine's car. He ran out of the room to get the new information from her.

"What should we do?" Greg asked, looking at Sara and Grissom.

"Wait," Grissom said simply. "There's nothing else we can do. We don't have anything else to process or any other leads to follow."

Sara shook her head. "I hate the waiting part of this job."

"Sometimes –" Grissom began.

"I know," Sara said, cutting him off. "The hardest thing to do is to do nothing."

"Exactly."

"Yeah, well, while you do nothing, I'm going to get a cup of coffee," Greg said. "Anyone else want one?"

"We found her!" Nick exclaimed, running back into the room at breakneck speed. "We matched the chair in the picture to the chair from a house that was tossed a few weeks ago – fingerprints put the suspect in both places. Warrick and Catherine are on their way to the scene right now."

"With Brass?" Grissom asked.

"Yes."

"Good." He ran his hands over his eyes. "I hope she's okay."

"She'll be fine," Nick said. "She has to be."

Sara looked at Grissom for a long minute, watching as fear and exhaustion struggled to dominate his features, only to be pushed back as he opened his eyes again. He caught her looking at him with concern in her eyes and smiled slightly.

"Greg's right," he said. "We all could use a cup of coffee. Let's go get some."

* * *

They were still drinking their coffee when Warrick called to tell them that they had Lindsey. He was at the house, processing. Catherine and Lindsey had gone to Desert Palm so that Lindsey could be checked by a doctor. Brass and several officers had gone along; the suspect had been shot during the struggle to find Lindsey, and they needed to guard him.

"I'm going to go see them," Grissom said. "I'll call you when I have more information."

"We'll do the same," Nick agreed.

With one last nod to all of them, he took his leave. Sara sighed and sat back in her chair.

"So, it's over?"

"Nearly," Nick said. "We still need to –"

His phone rang, cutting him off. After talking for a few minutes, he turned to Sara and Greg with a smile.

"That was Mandy," he said. "The prints from the suspect they have in custody match the prints from the car and from a piece of paper from the motel room. We've got him. She's sending the report to Grissom."

"Thank God," Sara sighed. "Now it is over."

"Wait," Greg said. "Didn't we all agree that this was a two man job?"

"Maybe one will lead us to the other," Sara said.

"I hope so," Greg said. "I have a feeling Catherine won't sleep at night until both of these guys are locked up."

* * *

Grissom closed his phone and began down the hall, following the directions he had been given to find the suspect's room. According to Brass, Catherine had gone there.

As he approached, he could see her standing in the hall, watching the man who had taken her daughter through the window. She turned toward Grissom as he stopped beside her.

"How's Lindsey?" he asked.

Catherine sighed and shook her head. "She says she's fine; the doctor is assessing her now."

Grissom nodded.

"We still don't have an ID," Catherine said, staring at the man in the hospital bed.

"Prints place him in the motel," Grissom said, handing her a report. "Found them on the Polariod paper slip. Can you place him at the bar?"

A thousand emotions crossed Catherine's face as she struggled to remember the hazy details of her night out.

"Yeah," she said at last, "yeah, he was there."

"The accident was a two man job," Grissom said. "Can you remember anybody else?"

She thought for a long moment, trying desperately to remember. Finally, she gave up and shook her head.

"I can't get a face."

"Okay," Grissom said. "Okay. We'll find him another way."

"Yeah," she agreed.

"Ms. Willows?"

They both turned as a nurse approached.

"Yes?" Catherine asked.

"You can see your daughter now."

"Thank you." Catherine turned from the nurse to Grissom. "Will you come with me? I know Lindsey would want to see you."

"You're sure?" Grissom asked. "I don't want to do anything to make her uncomfortable."

Catherine nodded. "I'm sure."

Grissom smiled. "Lead the way."

Catherine took him down the hall to a private room. She knocked, then slowly pushed the door open.

"Linds?"

"Mom," Lindsey said, sitting up straighter in bed.

Catherine smiled. "I brought someone to see you."

"Who?"

Catherine stepped all the way into the room, leaving room for Grissom to enter behind her. He smiled at Lindsey.

"Hi, sweetheart."

"Uncle Gil!" she exclaimed, a smile lighting up her face.

She reached out her arms, and he crossed the room to hug her. He held her tightly for a moment, relishing the feel of her arms clinging to his neck. He had been so afraid …

When he straightened up and backed away from her, he saw the tears standing in her eyes.

"Hey," he said, sitting down on her bed, "what's wrong?"

She laughed, brushing away her tears. "I think you can take a guess at that one."

"Ms. Willows?"

Catherine turned to see Lindsey's doctor standing in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Could I speak with you?"

Looking back as Grissom took Lindsey's hand, she nodded and followed him into the hall.

"Tell me about it?" Grissom asked.

Lindsey shook her head. "It was so scary."

"I'll bet it was," Grissom agreed. "It was for us, too. We didn't know where you were or who had you …"

Rapid tears slid down Lindsey's cheeks. "I knew you'd find me," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "The whole time, I kept telling myself I'd be okay because I had Mom and you and everyone else looking for me. And, I knew that Grandpa would pay the ransom. I knew I'd get home."

"You knew about the ransom?" Grissom asked.

Lindsey nodded. "They came in and took my picture – I could hear the shutter on the camera – and started talking about 20 million."

"They?" Grissom repeated. "How many of them were there?"

"I could hear two," she said.

"Two men?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

He smiled. "Lucky guess. I've been doing this for awhile."

"Did Grandpa pay them?" she asked.

Grissom shook his head. "We found you first."

"Good," she said. "I don't want them to have his money. He needs it for his new hotel."

"I'm sure that Grandpa will be fine," Catherine said as she reentered the room. "Your doctor says you seem fine, Lindsey, but he wants to keep you overnight to make sure."

Tears filled her eyes again. "I want to go _home_, Mom."

"I know, baby," Catherine said, sitting down on the other side of her bed. "I want to take you home, too. You have no idea how much. But, it's just for one night. This way, we'll know for sure that you're fine."

"Tell you what," Grissom said. "I'll make sure that your mom doesn't have to come to work for a week so she can spend time with you. How's that?"

Lindsey nodded. "Okay."

Catherine touched Lindsey's face, then hugged her close. She looked at Grissom over her daughter's shoulder, mouthing a "thank you."

Grissom nodded and smiled. It was the least he could do.

* * *

Catherine stayed with Lindsey until she fell asleep, then went home for a much-needed shower and nap. She returned to the lab that night, much to Grissom's chagrin.

"You know, I didn't tell Lindsey I was giving you time off to make her feel better," he said. "I actually wanted you to take the time off."

"I know," she said. "But, Wendy sent me a text saying she was working on Lindsey's case. I had to come in to see what was going on."

Grissom shook his head. "I would have brought you the results."

"I know," Catherine said. "Just … let me do this, Gil. I promise, after tonight, you won't see me until next week."

"As long as you promise."

She smiled. "I'm going to go find Wendy."

"Okay. Give Lindsey a kiss for me."

"I will."

Catherine left him and went in search of Wendy. She finally found her walking down the hall.

"Hey," Catherine said. "You paged?"

Wendy smiled and held up the file in her hand. "Judy just told me that you were in the lab; I was looking for you."

"Well, you found me."

"I ran DNA on the guy who was holding Lindsey," Wendy began.

"Did you get a name?" Catherine asked.

"Um, kind of. See, this guy has markers in ten percent of the population, which reminded me of some other results that I've been processing recently." She handed Catherine one page of the report she was carrying.

"Thirteen alleles in common with Robert O'Brien?" Catherine read, the name meaning absolutely nothing to her.

"The suicide from Sam Braun's implosion party," Wendy supplied.

Catherine looked at her in shock as everything started to fit together. "The guy who grabbed Lindsey is Robert O'Brien's _brother_?"

"Right," Wendy confirmed. "So, when that came up, I ran all the other exemplars from the O'Brien case, and I got a hit from a piece of hair from the duct tape they used to bind Lindsey." She handed Catherine a second report.

"Joe Hirschoff," Catherine read. She looked up, her eyes widening. "O'Brien's partner."

"Right."

"Who had the O'Brien case?"

"Sara and Warrick."

"Right. Thanks."

Catherine took off at a run. She found Sara first; she was sitting with Greg, going over evidence from the Delancy case.

"Sara," she said as she rushed into the room, "I need to talk to you."

"Sure," Sara said, looking up in surprise. "Greg …?"

"I'll catch up with you later," he said, quickly leaving the room.

"What's up?" Sara asked.

"Tell me about Robert O'Brien," Catherine said.

Sara looked surprised. She took a deep breath as she collected her thoughts. "He and his partner, Joe Hirschoff, invested 20 million in Sam's casino project. But, the project went bankrupt and they lost everything. Sam had to form a new corporation to start over, but that only bailed him out, not his investors. Robert shot himself at the implosion party. Joe … is his partner in every sense of the word. He took it pretty hard."

"Yeah," Catherine agreed. "Hard enough to drug me and kidnap Lindsey."

"What?" Sara said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Wendy ran DNA from the scene. She got matches to Joe and to Robert's brother."

"Oh, man," Sara said, the blood draining from her face. "I never thought …"

Catherine looked past her. "I've got to talk to Sam. I'm sure he knew who did this, and I'm sure he's out to get them. I've got to stop him."

Without another word, she ran from the room.

* * *

Catherine didn't have to search hard to find her father. Although some things about his schedule were not common knowledge, she only had to ask his assistant to find him. His Sunday night, schedule, however, _was_ common knowledge; she didn't need a middleman this time around. She met him as he left his usual dinner spot.

"Hi, Sam."

He looked up from the girl hanging on his arm to see his daughter walking toward him.

"Everybody in town knows you're here every Sunday night," she said. She looked the young woman on his arm up and down. "And, usually with my mother."

"I'll be right along," he said, dismissing his arm candy.

"All right," she said, walking ahead of him to the waiting car.

"She doesn't mean a thing," he told Catherine. "It's all show."

Catherine shook her head. She was fairly certain he was telling the truth, but that didn't make it easier to see her father out with a woman younger than her.

"Look, Muggs, yesterday was –"

"Just save it," Catherine interrupted. "I only came here to tell you to call off your guys."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam said automatically.

"Joe Hirschoff and his partner invested everything they had in the Eclipse, but it went bankrupt before you broke ground. You formed a new corporation to finish the project, leaving those guys with nothing."

"Sometimes that's the way it goes in business," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Uh-huh," Catherine nodded. "O'Brien and Hirschoff lost about twenty million, right? O'Brien caved and stuck a gun in his mouth, but Hirschoff wanted you to pay him back. So, where is he?"

"I don't know," Sam said in a slow, measured tone.

"Come on, Sam, this isn't old Vegas anymore," Catherine said, shaking her head, "let the police handle it. Have you already killed him?"

Sam laughed. "I give my word, no."

Catherine looked past him and realized in a minute that he was telling the truth. Joe Hirschoff was walking toward them, his face stony. A thousand images flooded her mind as recognition shot through her. She didn't just know Hirschoff from seeing him in PD, being interrogated after his partner's death. She knew him from the bar … he was the second man in the operation …

Joe raised a gun, pointing it at Sam.

"_NO_!" Catherine screamed.

Sam turned. Joe fired.

"_NO_!"

Catherine's scream lingered in the air as Sam collapsed back as two shots entered his chest. Catherine grabbed him as he fell; they hit the ground together.

One of Sam's body guards began shooting at Joe as he ran away, hitting him several times in the back. He fell forward.

"_Sam_!" she screamed, shaking him. "_SAM_!"

Sam could not respond as his eyes stared, unseeing, above her. He clung to her with one arm as the other fell to the ground.

"_Somebody help me_!" Catherine screamed.

Several valets ran forward.

"My God!" one of them yelled. "Call 911!"

"Don't waste that time," Catherine yelled, desperately clinging to the rational side of her brain. She grabbed her phone off the sidewalk, where it had fallen as she hit the ground. She pressed her speed dial.

"Dispatch, this is CSI Willows," she said in a quick, professional voice. "I'm with Sam Braun, who was just shot twice in the chest. I need medics, unis and CSI on the scene immediately."

"Please state your location, CSI Willows."

Catherine rattled off the name of the restaurant and cross streets.

"We'll send all available units."

Catherine glanced at Hirschoff's unmoving body. "We have a suspect down, too."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What is your ETA?"

"Closest units can be there in five minutes."

"Thank you."

Catherine closed the phone and began shaking Sam again. "Sam?" she said, trying desperately to hold back the tears. "Sam, please …"

Sam remained unresponsive. Catherine suddenly realizing that she should begin CPR. She eased his weight off her lap and felt for the pulse that she knew wouldn't be there. Choking back sobs, she began chest compressions. Deep down, she knew it wouldn't help, but she had to try. She had to do everything she could to save her father.


	64. Family

A/N: I realize that I'm a week late posting this. I'm terribly sorry. This past week has just been overwhelming at work, and real life has sucked up all my time. But, the coming week looks a bit slower, so, hopefully, I won't miss a week again … at least in the foreseeable future.

I hope that this chapter is enough to make it up to you! Just to clear up the timeline, this one picks up exactly where the last chapter left off. Enjoy!

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Family_

Jim Brass was the first on the scene. As he ran toward Catherine, he almost wished he were wearing a hat. It seemed appropriate to take it off in honor of the fall of one of Vegas' greatest, old-time crime bosses.

"Catherine," he said quietly, touching her shoulder.

"Where are the medics?" she asked without looking up.

"En route." Jim glanced at Hirschoff. "What happened?"

"Not now," Catherine said, her breathing labored with the exertion of performing CPR.

"Catherine, I don't think –"

"Leave me alone!" she screamed.

Brass backed off. He was still standing aside when the paramedics and Grissom arrived within seconds of each other.

"Catherine!"

Catherine stood as the paramedics shooed her away and turned to see Grissom running toward her. Her face crumpled.

"Gil."

He reached her side and pulled her to him in a tight hug. She began to sob, clinging to him to stay on her feet.

"Hirschoff was the other man at the bar," she sobbed. "He was the second one who took Lindsey. He – he just shot Sam. Right here! Right in front of me! We were talking, and then – then –"

"It's okay," Grissom said, rocking her slightly back and forth. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" Catherine cried. "It's never going to be okay!"

"Catherine," Grissom said firmly, pulling back and grabbing her face in his hands, "it's over. Okay? _It's over_. Please, Catherine, I need you to calm down. Lindsey needs you to calm down."

"Lindsey," Catherine whispered, drawing a deep breath. "Lindsey."

"Right," Grissom said softly. "Calm down for Lindsey."

Catherine drew another shaky breath and nodded. "I'm good."

"You're sure?" Grissom asked, still holding her face between his hands, looking deeply into her eyes.

"I'm sure."

Finally convinced that she was calm, Grissom released her. "Can you tell me and Brass what happened?"

"I think so."

Grissom nodded to Brass, who joined them.

"You okay, Cath?" he asked, touching her arm.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I –"

"That's it," one of the paramedics said. "We've got to call it. Time of death, 23:07."

Catherine's face fell and her tears spilled over. Grissom grabbed her to him; she collapsed against him, sobbing against his chest.

"Later?" Brass whispered.

Grissom nodded over Catherine's head. "Call my team?"

"You got it."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the team began to arrive on the scene. Nick and Warrick arrived together; they joined Grissom and Catherine, who were sitting on a bench outside the crime scene tape. Grissom was wrapping a blanket around Catherine's shoulders while she clutched a cup of tea.

"Hey," Nick said as they approached. "What happened?"

"Sam Braun was shot," Grissom said. "Nick, you're lead on this case. Warrick, Sara and Greg will all work with you."

"That's not necessary," Catherine said in a hollow, detached voice. "I saw the man who shot him, and Sam's bodyguard took him out. You won't need to process anything."

"We'll need hard evidence to back up your account," Grissom said. "We want to do this right, Cath."

Even though his voice was devoid of all accusation, Catherine's eyes swung up to his face. "You mean, you don't want me and Sara to run off and conduct an investigation behind your back."

"No," Grissom said quickly. "No, that's not what I meant. I just … I want this to work for you, Catherine. Even if Hirschoff is dead, there's still O'Brien. If we can link him to this, we can get him for more than just abducting Lindsey."

"Lindsey," Catherine said, her eyes growing wide. "I've got to go. I've got to get home – I have to tell her what happened before she hears it from someone else."

"I'll take you," Warrick volunteered.

"I drove here," Catherine said. "I have my car. I can get home."

Warrick shook his head. "You can't drive right now, Cath. Not after what just happened. Let me take you home."

Catherine slowly nodded. "Let me give my statement to Brass first."

Warrick nodded his agreement. "Want me to go with you?"

She nodded.

"As a friend or as a CSI?"

"Both."

Warrick reached out his hand to help Catherine to her feet. They walked across the parking lot to where Brass stood talking to several other witnesses.

Nick sat down next to Grissom. "You don't want to be on this case?"

He shook his head. "I'm too close to Catherine. I wouldn't be objective enough."

Nick nodded. "I don't really need three helpers, Griss. I can do this with just one other CSI."

"You're sure?"

"It sounds like it's pretty cut and dry. Why tie up all your CSIs when I don't need to?"

"Okay," Grissom agreed. He looked up as Greg and Sara approached. "Keep Greg here to help you with the scene. Get Catherine's statement from Warrick, then send him on his way. I'll keep him and Sara for other cases."

"Works for me."

"Good."

"Hey," Sara said as she and Greg reached them. "What happened?"

"Sam Braun was shot," Grissom said for the second time that night. "Catherine was with him when it happened."

"My God," Sara exclaimed. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine," Grissom said. "Shaken up, of course … upset about her father … but, physically, she's fine."

"What do you need us to do?" Greg asked.

"Nick's taking the lead on the case. Greg, you're going to stay here with him and work the scene. Right now, Warrick and Brass are getting Catherine's statement, then Warrick's going to take her home. After Warrick checks in with Nick, he's off the case."

"Why?" Sara asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Based on what Catherine said, Nick doesn't think he'll need all of you," Grissom replied. "Sara, you're coming back with me. We'll take the next case."

"Oh," she said, a bit surprised. "Okay."

Grissom looked at Nick. "Is there anything else you need?"

Nick shook his head. "I'll call if we have any problems."

"Okay. Listen, Nicky, you need to be really careful with this one. Sam Braun …"

"I know," Nick said. "High profile."

Sara smiled slightly. As sorry as he was for Catherine, Nick looked quite pleased that Grissom trusted him to lead this investigation.

"Okay, then. Sara, I'll drive you back to the lab."

"Okay," she agreed.

Grissom turned to walk back to the Denali he had driven to the scene. Sara paused to wave good bye to Nick and Greg, then hurried to catch up to him.

By the time Sara reached the SUV, Grissom was already seated behind the wheel. The fact that he had not slowed to wait for her spoke volumes. While he didn't normally open her door when they were at work – he saved the "boyfriend" moments for when they were alone – he always waited for her so they could walk to the car together. He was obviously still angry over what she and Catherine had done. Sara opened the passenger door and slid into her seat, thinking that she was in for a long drive back to the lab.

"How is Catherine?" she asked timidly after driving for nearly ten minutes in silence.

"Upset," Grissom replied. "She and Sam may not have had the best of relationships all the time, but they loved each other very much."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "I know she didn't talk about him very often, but it seemed like he was always there for her."

"He was," Grissom agreed. He exhaled slowly. "He gave us the money to pay Nick's ransom when she asked for it."

"He – what?" Sara twisted in her seat to look at Grissom.

He nodded. "I didn't know what she had done until she came back to the lab with the money. I didn't want to use it at first – it could have looked like a bribe. But, she talked me into it. We both had hoped … You know, she told me later that after she told Sam that his money was all blown up with the kidnapper, his first question was if she and the team were okay. He didn't care about the money – he cared about _her_. I think that was the first time she realized it."

Sara shook her head and turned to look out the window again. "She was lucky," she said quietly. "He loved her very much."

Grissom glanced at her, noticing the sorrow in her face. He reached across to take her hand, holding it firmly.

Sara glanced up in surprise. She remained silent, but let her fingers curl around his.

She was lucky, too.

* * *

After its explosive start, their shift was rather calm. Sara and Warrick went out together on a home invasion call; thanks to two very inept criminals, they solved the case by the end of the shift.

After work, Sara decided to take Grissom breakfast. As kind as he had been during their drive to the lab, she knew that his anger was still present, even if he was repressing it while they were around their colleagues. His favorite coffee and muffins could help them find an end to their argument.

Grissom's townhouse was empty when Sara arrived. Considering that he and the dog, as well as Hank's leash, were gone, she assumed that they had gone for a walk. Hoping that they'd be home soon, she set their breakfast out on the table.

Sara had no sooner finished her task than the door opened. Hank bounded in ahead of Grissom; he barely paused long enough for Grissom to unclip his leash before charging down the stairs to greet Sara. Sara giggled and welcomed the dog with open arms.

"Sara," Grissom said as he followed Hank downstairs at a much slower pace. "I didn't expect to see you."

"I brought you breakfast," she said. She gave him a small smile. "A peace offering."

Grissom sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sara …"

"No, we're not ignoring this," Sara insisted. "We're both upset, and we need to talk about it before we can move on."

Grissom sighed again, the memory of a long-ago conversation with a different woman bringing a slight smile to his face. "You sound like Catherine. She always says I need to _deal_ with things."

"Well, she's right."

He shook his head. "You know why I'm upset, Sara. You and Catherine broke lab policy."

"You don't get to pick and choose which lab policies to follow and which ones to ignore," Sara said. "You can't yell at me for breaking a policy to help Catherine, but keep dating me behind Ecklie's back." She shrugged. "It just seems … well … hypocritical."

"It's not the same thing," Grissom argued. "And, it's not because I care about you or because our relationship is more important than your friendship with Catherine."

"Oh? How is it different, then?"

"Show me one conviction our relationship has cost us. Just one."

"What Catherine and I did won't cost us a conviction, either. We certainly have enough to charge these two with – well, the one who survived, anyway."

"Only because they went on a crime spree," Grissom argued. "If they hadn't taken Lindsey or shot Sam, we'd have nothing. After all they did to Catherine, they would have gone free." He looked disgusted at the thought.

"She didn't care," Sara said.

"_I_ do care," Grissom said. He ran his hands over his face. "Do you think I'm completely unfeeling? Catherine is one of my best friends, Sara. To think that someone could do something like this to her is awful enough. To think that he'd get away with it because you and Catherine ran this investigation behind my back … it makes me ill."

Sara's eyes widened. She had never thought of that side of things. She had been so wrapped up in Catherine and Catherine's feelings that Grissom's feelings had never entered into her thoughts.

"Look, the lines are blurred all over the place at that lab," Grissom said. "Catherine is my colleague. She's my right hand. And, she's my best friend. You are – and always have been – my protégé. You are an invaluable member of my team. And, you are my girlfriend. It's not just that you didn't tell me about another CSI investigating her own possible rape that bothers me. It's that you didn't tell me that my best friend thought she had been raped." He paused. "As much as I hate the thought that you kept something like this from your boss … I hate the thought that you kept a secret from your boyfriend even more."

Sara exhaled. "It killed me," she said quietly. "I knew I was going behind your back from the very beginning. I hated lying to you. But, what could I do? Catherine had sworn me to secrecy. And, as a woman, I so identified with her pain that I just had to do as she asked."

"So, is this where we are?" Grissom asked. "We can keep things from each other now?"

"You're right," Sara said. "The lines are blurred. Anything that I tell my boyfriend, my boss will hear, too. And, I just … I don't know, Gil. I don't know what to do about this."

"I don't know either," Grissom said, shaking his head.

"The one thing I _do_ know is that I just don't want to fight anymore."

"I don't, either," Grissom agreed.

"I don't want you to be angry with me."

"I don't want to be angry with you," Grissom said. "I don't want you to be angry with me, either."

"I'm not," Sara said. "Not anymore. Are you still angry with me?"

Grissom sighed and shook his head. "I can't stay angry with you."

Sara smiled slightly. "Neither of us will ever admit to being wrong on this. So, if we're not really angry anymore, why don't we just call it a draw and kiss and make up?"

Grissom grinned and crossed the distance between them to kiss her. "Is that all I get? A make up kiss?"

"You had something else in mind?"

His hand slid up from its place on her hip, slipping under her shirt. "Yeah," he said in a low voice, "I had quite a bit more in mind."

"Breakfast will get cold," Sara whispered against his lips.

"I have a microwave."

"Well, in that case …"

Grissom grinned, and led her to the bedroom.

* * *

"This can wait until tomorrow, right?"

Sara glanced at her watch and nodded. "We need to get out of here."

"Yeah," Greg agreed. "If we leave now, we have time for a nap before …"

"Yeah," Sara agreed quietly. "Did Nick and Warrick already leave?"

"We're on our way out now," Nick said as he and Warrick passed the layout room. "Where's Grissom?"

"Right here," Grissom said as he joined them. "I was looking for all of you. I wanted to tell you to go home. We all need a little rest before Sam's funeral."

Warrick exhaled. "You're sure it's all right for all of us to go?"

"Catherine is our friend and our colleague," Grissom replied. "We should attend her father's funeral."

"Even if her father was a mobster?" Nick asked.

"We have no evidence to substantiate that claim," Grissom said automatically. "He was never convicted of any crime."

"But, common logic …" Greg began. "We're all cops, Grissom. Is it kosher for us to do this?"

"Technically, we're scientists," he said. "Our jackets say 'forensics' or 'crime scene investigator,' not 'police.' We work for the city's crime department, but we're not exactly cops."

"So, it's fine for all of us to show up as police representation at Sam Braun's funeral?" Warrick asked.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "This is worse than talking to Hodges. _Yes_, it's fine for all of us to go. We're not going as cops, we're going as Catherine's friends." He glanced at his watch. "Go home. All of you. I'll meet you outside the church in four hours."

"Yes, sir," Nick said. "Come on, guys."

They started for the door. Sara held back a moment to give Grissom the briefest of smiles, then followed the others out.

They were in for a long day.

* * *

Shortly before eleven, they met outside the church Sam had attended. Like so many of his cronies, he was careful to attend Mass every Sunday. Catherine said that, in his mind, it bought him forgiveness for his sins.

"Ready?" Grissom asked quietly once they all had assembled.

With a collective nod, they stepped forward. Grissom held the door for Sara, then he and the other men followed her into the silent building. Sara led the way across the vestibule toward the doors that separated it from the sanctuary. As she expected, Grissom paused to dip his fingers into the holy water and cross himself before following her into the sanctuary.

They found an empty pew in the middle of the church and sat down. From her spot between Greg and Grissom, Sara found herself staring around the church in fascinated wonder. Religion had not been a part of her childhood, and certainly wasn't a part of her present, but, as she took in the quiet peace of the church, she could understand how Grissom drew such comfort from it.

A small cluster of people arrived together, many of them crying as they made their way down the aisle. Catherine was among them, supporting her mother and leading her daughter. She didn't see her colleagues as she led Lily and Lindsey to their seats in the front of the church, but Lindsey did. She grabbed her mother's sleeve and whispered in her ear, jerking her head back in their direction. Catherine stopped walking and turned to look at them.

In that moment, Sara understood why Grissom had insisted that they all attend a mobster's funeral. The look on Catherine's face – the surprise mingled with relief mingled with love – was enough to convince her that they were right where they needed to be. Protocol and appearances didn't matter. Catherine mattered. Their friendship mattered.

Their _family_ mattered.


	65. First Blush

A/N: After all the intensity of Thursday's CSI, I thought a bit of light, fluffy GSR time was in order. I hope you enjoy this little break from the drama!

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 703, "Toe Tags."

* * *

_First Blush_

Grissom's ringing cell phone brought him out of a dream. Sara mumbled something incoherent, and rolled away from him and the ringing phone on his nightstand. Grissom shook the sleep from his eyes as he reached for the phone.

"Grissom."

"Good morning, sunshine."

Grissom closed his eyes tightly. "Brass. Tell me you are not waking me up on my day off for a case."

"Sorry," Brass said. "Everyone else is already out, and you and Sara are both off, and, well, I thought it would be rude to wake her up and let you sleep. The poor girl deserves a night off."

"Sure. Sara deserves time off, but I don't."

Brass chuckled. "Look, I've got a double for you. It's … well, look, if you want to call Sara in, go ahead. I think you may need the back up. But, I'm not going to be the one to call and wake her up."

"Fine," Grissom sighed. "Where should I meet you?"

Brass rattled off a suburban address. "It's one of those cookie-cutter housing developments," he finished.

"Got it," Grissom said. "I'll see you in less than an hour."

"Thanks, Grissom. I'll be waiting for you."

Grissom closed his phone and replaced it on the nightstand. He looked across at Sara, who was curled up with her back to him. He reached across to brush her hair back from her face.

"Sara," he whispered.

"Go away," she said.

"Come on, sweetheart, I need you to wake up," Grissom said, leaning down to kiss her shoulder.

"No," she said petulantly.

"Please?" he asked, kissing the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met.

Sara shivered and rolled onto her back to look up at him. "That was mean. You know how …"

"Mm-hm," Grissom said, kissing the same place again.

"Mmm," Sara sighed, leaning her head away to give him better access. "Do it again."

Grissom kissed her once more. "Come on, honey, we've got to get up."

"I'm good here," Sara said, reaching up to run her hand down his chest.

"Yeah, but, Brass isn't good with you being here," Grissom replied. "We've got a double. He's waiting for us at the scene."

Sara groaned. "That's why I didn't want you to wake me up to begin with. I _knew_ it would involve me getting out of bed."

"Well, I'm getting out of bed, too," Grissom said. "Does that make it better?"

"A little," Sara said, giving him a coy smile. "At the moment, I don't see much point in staying in bed without you."

Grissom groaned. "I _hate_ it when you say things like that right before work."

"I know," Sara said, grinning at him as she rolled out of bed. "I'm going to take a shower. I want to look good for Brass."

Grissom's groan changed to a laugh. "Just be quick! I promised him we'd be there in an hour."

"You've got it!" Sara yelled over the sound of the running water.

Grissom smiled and pulled himself out of bed. He'd pack their lunches while she showered.

* * *

Brass smiled to himself as Grissom and Sara climbed out of the same car upon their arrival at the crime scene. How had he guessed that they'd spend their night off together? He hid his smile as they approached.

"The hot weather, the full moon, too many people moving to Vegas … whatever the reason, the natives are restless," he said as he joined them to walk up the driveway. "The scene's in the garage."

Sara paused as they stepped over vomit on the driveway. "That's not a good sign," she said.

"Bacon and eggs?" Grissom questioned, peering down.

"Yeah, well, you know, don't bother about that," Brass said. "That's the water delivery boy. He lost his breakfast – _and_ his bottle," he added, indicating the jug of water that had rolled to the side of the driveway.

They all continued on their progress to the garage.

"He said the house belonged to a guy named Lou Beltran," Brass said.

"Is he one of the victims?" Grissom asked.

Brass gave a half-shrug. "He couldn't tell." He paused as they reached the side door into the garage. "The door's been forced," he said.

Sara pushed on the partially open door with her fingertips, revealing something she never expected to see. Grissom stepped up behind her; they both lowered their sunglasses and looked in shock at the scene before them. A bloody chainsaw lay among the massacred furniture and bodies. Of the two men, one was missing an arm, while the other had a long gash down his torso. Blood spatter covered literally everything, from the floor to the walls to the ceiling.

"I thought this only happened in the movies," Sara said in shock.

"Life imitates art," Grissom said, his own voice conveying his horror.

"I told you you'd need back up," Brass said. "Listen, I'm going to start talking to neighbors, if you two don't need anything …"

"No, we're fine," Grissom said. He looked at Sara. "I've got coveralls in the truck. I think we should wear them for this one."

Sara glanced down at her favorite "work jeans." "Yeah," she said with a nod. "Good idea. This is going to be messy."

Brass chuckled. "Not how you planned to spend your day off, is it?"

"Um, no," Sara said, smiling. "Thanks for that, Brass."

"Hey, it's not my fault," Brass replied. "Blame the dead guys."

"Or the person who killed them," Grissom said. "Come on, Sara. Let's go change."

"Right," she said.

They all left the garage; Brass to talk to the neighbors and Grissom and Sara to change.

* * *

The crime scene was not fun. It was hot in the garage, and the coveralls did not help Grissom and Sara stay cool. Aside from the heat, there was so much to do. Documenting all the blood spatter, body parts, damaged furniture, fingerprints … Sara was sure they'd never finish.

Grissom stood on a stepladder, taking pictures of the blood spatter on the ceiling. He looked over at Sara, who was fingerprinting the kicked-in door.

"Okay," he said, feeling they had enough evidence to make some observations, "you first."

Sara looked up at Grissom as he climbed off the ladder. "All right. Kicked in door, one bloody chainsaw, two dead bodies. Someone broke in, cut up the two guys, left the murder weapon, and … split."

"What about all this mess?" Grissom asked, indicating the rest of the garage. "The furniture? Appliances?"

"Some of the furniture looks new, some of it's cut up, some of it's not," Sara observed. "Maybe … they were cutting it up when the assailant came in." She abandoned her door to start sketches of the body positions.

Grissom gave a half-nod as he raised his camera to continue photo documentation. "It's a workable theory … for now."

"You know what this reminds me of?" Sara asked as she crouched down next to the one-armed body. "The first time we met. San Francisco. Your lecture, 'Double Murder in a Garage.' I had heard you were a little dull as a speaker …" She began making notes on her clipboard. "But, you can't rely on your first blush."

She looked up to see Grissom looking distinctly uncomfortable. He turned away from her.

"That was the, uh, subject of your talk," Sara said, smiling, surprised that her teasing had him so upset.

"I believe I said, first opinions are crucial, but if the evidence changes, so must the theory," he said, finally calming down to accept her teasing.

"Exactly," Sara said, struggling not to laugh. He was such an easy target.

Brass appeared, asking for the victims' wallets, which Sara provided. Armed with their identification, he disappeared to start his search for next of kin. Sara looked up at Grissom, who was photographing the other body.

"What was your first impression of me?"

He slowly lowered his camera. "That you were far too young to have seen so much," he said simply.

Sara's eyes widened. She had not expected him to take her question so seriously.

"I knew you were about the same age at Nick and Warrick, but there was something about you … you had this air of knowledge and experience that they just didn't have." He smiled. "And, that you were beautiful. You were this young, beautiful girl … and you kept asking me questions … I guess I was hooked from that very first minute."

Sara felt the heat rising in her cheeks until she was blushing furiously. "Griss, I –"

"Okay," Brass said as he came back in, breaking the spell of the moment. "I talked to the soon to be ex-Mrs. Beltran. She said she'd meet me at the station. I can't find a wife for Mr. Gaynor; I'll have to dig a bit deeper to get more on him. Do you two need anything right now?"

"No," Grissom said, clearing his throat. "We're fine."

"Okay. I'm going to go back to talk to Mrs. Beltran. Call if you need me."

"We will."

Brass disappeared. Sara glanced back up at Grissom. He was absorbed in his task once more. Their moment of sharing was over.

* * *

Processing the evidence proved to be an involved task.

Sara discovered that the chainsaw found with the murdered men belonged to one of them – Mr. Gaynor, the now one armed man. Grissom, after talking to Dr. Robbins, learned that while Mr. Gaynor's missing arm and associated wounds had been the cause of his head, Mr. Beltran had died of a jagged wound to his torso. The odd thing about it was that the wounds were at an upward angle, the opposite of what one would expect to see on a body that had been attacked from the front.

Brass talked to Mr. Beltran's wife – Mr. Gaynor was unmarried – and discovered that they were in the middle of a messy divorce. Between their observations at the crime scene, Sara's discovery of the dull teeth on the chainsaw and Mrs. Beltran's statement, they ascertained that Mr. Beltran had been destroying everything his wife had requested in the divorce. While it didn't solve the case, it did explain some of what had happened.

"We need to recreate the scene," Grissom said.

Sara smiled. "Sounds like fun."

"Yeah," Grissom said, smiling back. "We'll load dummies with paint and try to match the spatter patterns on the ceiling to figure out how this could have happened."

"Great," Sara said. "So, you want me to … get dressed and find a dummy?"

"Yes," Grissom said. "And, bring the chainsaw. I'll set up the other dummy and the spatter patterns. Meet me in the garage."

"You've got it."

* * *

By the time Sara arrived in the garage, Grissom was already dressed, the spatter patterns were painted on the "ceiling" of the enclosure he had set up to simulate the garage, and one dummy was in place.

"Where do you want him?" she asked as she approached with the second dummy.

"Put him under the Lou Beltran spatter," Grissom said. "And, load him up."

Sara positioned the dummy and she and Grissom began the time-consuming task of loading the dummies with blue paint. Finally, they were both ready to begin their experiment.

Grissom picked up the chainsaw and "attacked" the Ray Gaynor dummy's shoulder, shooting blue paint toward the ceiling. Sara watched as it arced away from the red paint Grissom had sprayed there before beginning.

"Blue test paint is not lining up with the red known spatter," she said.

Grissom looked up and shook his head. "The body's in the correct relative position, but the angle's off."

"What would throw the angle off?" Sara asked.

"I don't know, but it's very awkward to try to line this up," Grissom said, shifting the chainsaw in his hands.

He tried several different ways of holding it against the dummy's shoulder, trying to find one that would be likely to create the spatter pattern they needed. Sara watched for a moment in silence, then stepped toward him, reaching out for the chainsaw.

"Well," she said, taking the tool from him, "what if you line it up switching hands, like this?"

She gripped the chainsaw as if she were left handed, and "attacked" the dummy again. Holding the chainsaw that way, Sara sent blue paint flying along the same line as the red paint.

"Ray Gaynor's killer was left handed," she said.

"Lou Beltran wore his watch on his right wrist," Grissom said, remembering the tan lines he had seen during the autopsy. "I bet he was left handed."

"So, Lou could have killed Ray," Sara said. "Cut off his arm. But, who killed Lou?"

Grissom thought for a moment. "Doc Robbins said the cuts on Lou's body were made when the chain was traveling _upwards_."

"Well, if I attacked you," Sara said, coming at Grissom with the still chainsaw, smiling as his eyes widened, "the chain would be traveling downwards when held normally by a left or a right handed person."

"Which means that the top of the chain had to be facing him," Grissom said, shaking his head slightly.

"The way that this works," Sara said, suddenly excited as she stumbled upon the answer, "is if Lou is holding the saw." She stepped back toward the Lou dummy. "The chain was dull from cutting up his wife's things. The wife told Brass that he wasn't very handy …"

Grissom nodded slightly, following her line of thinking. "An inexperienced, left handed operator with a dull chainsaw certainly increases the risk for injury."

Sara brought the saw back toward her own shoulder. "Kick back."

"You're right," Grissom said. He smiled at her. "There was no murderer – only an angry man who didn't know how to use a chainsaw."

"And they talk about the _woman_ scorned," Sara said with a smile.

"The desire for revenge knows no gender," Grissom said. He glanced at his watch. "Um … would you mind cleaning this up? I have an appointment."

"That appointment had better be with a judge," Sara said. "This is a lot to clean up!"

"I have to meet a group of high schoolers who plan to major in forensic science," Grissom said. "I'm supposed to give them a tour of the lab and morgue."

Sara grinned. "So, let me guess. UNLV has too many applicants, and they're hoping you can scare some of them out of it?"

"Must you be so negative?" Grissom asked. "I'm just going to present the facts. They can draw their own conclusions."

Sara smiled. "Okay, fine. I'll clean up your mess. Go play teacher."

He smiled and, glancing around to make sure they were alone, stepped forward to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, dear."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Grissom began to strip off his gloves and protective clothes. Sara watched in silence for a moment, then spoke.

"Hey, come over when you're done with your tour," she said. "I'll make you dinner."

"I'd love to," Grissom said with a smile. "I'll be as quick as I can."

"Don't hurry on my account," Sara said. "I have a lot of cleaning to do before I can go home and start cooking."

Concern crossed Grissom's face. "I shouldn't leave you with this. I'll call Judy and tell her to keep the kids in the waiting area until we're done here."

"Grissom, don't do that," Sara said. "I can clean it up. I'm just giving you a hard time."

"You're sure?" he asked, still obviously concerned.

"I'm sure," she said, stepping closer and giving him a seductive smile. "I'll expect a little something as a 'thank you' later, though."

"Oh?" Grissom asked, mesmerized by the look she was giving him. "What might that be?"

"Some quality time alone with the teacher," she said quietly.

"I think that can be arranged," Grissom replied. "When would you like your private lesson? Before or after dinner?"

Sara smiled. "Mmm. How about … both?"

Grissom shook his head as if to clear it. "I have to go," he said, trying to tear his eyes away from hers.

"I'm not stopping you."

"Oh, yes, you are, and you know it."

Sara giggled. "Go, Griss. I'll … see you when I see you."

He smiled. "I'll see you when I see you," he said quietly.

With one last smile, Grissom left Sara alone. Shaking her own head to bring herself back to the task at hand, she began cleaning up their experiment.

* * *

"Hi."

Sara looked up from the pot simmering on the stove as Grissom walked into her apartment. "Hi," she smiled. "How did it go?"

Grissom's eyes lit up as he joined her in the kitchen. "It was great."

Sara reached into the fridge for a bottle of white wine, which she passed to him, along with a corkscrew. "Tell me about it?"

"The kids were so excited when they got to the lab," he said, deftly uncorking the wine. He opened the cabinet above his head and took out two glasses. "We hit the morgue first – I thought it would be best to show them that part of things right off the bat."

"You are _so_ like Carl," Sara said, rolling her eyes. "Did you take them into an autopsy within the first five minutes?"

"No," Grissom said, handing her a glass of wine. "We just toured the morgue itself. Then, we went through the lab – Hodges _loved_ showing off all his toys – then went back to the morgue at the end. I didn't let them see an autopsy – just a few bodies that had been posted. We went over the case details."

"Did they get to see our chainsaw massacre victims?" Sara asked, taking a sip of her wine.

"Yes." Grissom smiled. "There was one girl – she reminded me of you. Her name is Samantha. She was just so intelligent. That's not to say the rest weren't; they're all honor students. But, this girl had this ability to see things the others couldn't. And, she had so many questions. One after the other. Every time I answered one, she'd find another question in the answer." He smiled and touched Sara's cheek. "She reminded me of you when we first met."

Sara smiled and flushed under his gaze. "Are you trying to tell me that you're leaving me for an eighteen-year-old?"

"Hardly," he said with a smile. "The last question she asked me came out of another boy's comment. Derek said that he didn't think he could do _this_ – be a CSI. Granted, he said it in the morgue, which is not the most pleasant environment we see in a day, but he seemed just … disturbed by the whole thing. I said that was fine, and that not everyone is cut out for this line of work."

Sara nodded her agreement.

"Then, Samantha asked me why I do it." He smiled. "I seem to remember you asking me that, once upon a time."

Sara nodded and smiled. "Did you tell her what you told me? That it's your passion? That you get to solve riddles and puzzles while you help people?"

Grissom laughed. "Sara, please stop recording everything I say."

"I remember the profound things," she said with a smile. "What did you tell Samantha?"

"Well, I've streamlined my answer in the past few years," he said. "I told her that I do this because the dead can't speak for themselves."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing," Grissom said. "I think that was the only time I rendered her speechless. But, you know, the way her eyes lit up … I think she will pursue a career as a CSI. I just hope we're lucky enough to be the lab that gets her when she's ready to work in the field."

Sara smiled. "You had fun, didn't you?"

Grissom nodded. "I didn't expect to have as much fun as I did," he confessed. "I've never really dealt with teenagers outside of a case."

"Are you starting to think you missed your calling? That you should have been a high school teacher?"

Grissom laughed. "No. I'm happy where I am."

"That's good to hear."

He looked at her for a moment. "Are you happy where you are?"

Sara smiled slightly and stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around him and snuggling against his chest. Her smile deepened as his arms came up to hold her closer.

"I am now," she whispered.

Grissom smiled and kissed her. "Me, too."


	66. The Wrong Place and Time

A/N: I know, I know, it's late and it's a cliffhanger. But, on the positive side, you'll only have to wait till Sunday (ish) to see how it ends!

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you like this chapter!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 704, "Fannysmackin'."

* * *

_The Wrong Place and Time_

"Hey, Sara. Sorry to hear that your day off got cut short."

"Cut short?" Sara repeated, laughing. "More like eliminated. Why does everyone have to be murdered when I'm supposed to be off?"

Nick laughed. "You poor little thing."

"I somehow doubt your sincerity."

"Hey, Nick, Sara, do you have a second?" Warrick asked as he walked into the locker room with his phone held loosely against his ear. "Grissom's on the phone; he wants to give us some orders via speaker phone." He paused. "What?" After listening for a moment, he grinned. "Griss says they're not orders, but suggestions for how to spend our shift."

Sara and Nick exchanged a grin. "Orders."

Warrick grinned with them and pressed the speaker button on his phone. "Okay, Griss, go ahead."

"Hi, everyone," he said.

"Hi, Grissom," Sara and Nick said in unison.

"Catherine and I are at a scene in the Tangiers employee parking structure," he said. "Our vic was beaten to death. We've got another 415; but the vic is still alive. Her name is Jessica Hershbaum. She's been taken to Desert Palm. Sara, would you go to the hospital to process her?"

"Got it," Sara said.

"Good. Nick, you go with Warrick to the scene. Brass is already there; he'll bring you up to speed."

"Okay," Nick agreed.

"Good," Grissom said again. "Keep me updated if there's something I should know."

"Will do," Warrick said. "Bye, Griss."

"Bye," Nick and Sara echoed.

"Bye," Grissom replied.

Warrick closed his phone. "I guess we'll see you later, Sara?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'll come back here from the hospital, but call if you need me to come to your scene, okay?"

"We will," Warrick agreed. "Have fun."

Sara made a face. "Oh, yeah. This should be a blast."

* * *

Poor Jessica looked awful. Sara had seen plenty of beating victims in her life – including her own mother – but she had to admit to herself that she was amazed Jessica had survived the attack. The girl obviously had a very strong will to live.

"I just got out of a two year relationship," Jessica sobbed as Sara collected trace evidence from her wounds, "so I decided to take a solo trip to Vegas. You know, try the whole, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?"

"Been there," Sara said with a slight smile.

"Yeah, well, I get to take this face back with me," Jessica said, dissolving into sobs again. She brought herself back under control. "Did anybody else get hurt?"

Sara paused and looked down at her. "Why do you ask?"

"I heard them say I was number two. Was there a number one?"

Sara nodded, thinking of the case that Grissom and Catherine were working. "There was."

"How are they doing?"

Sara paused. "He died," she said at last.

Jessica stared at her for a long minute. "I guess the bruises will fade, won't they?"

"Yes," Sara agreed. "You were very lucky, all things considered."

"You will catch these people, right?"

"People," Sara repeated. "How many of them were there?"

"I don't know," Jessica said. "It was like … a mob." She began to sob again. "It was so scary. I didn't know things like that really happened. I thought it was something that happened in the movies."

"Yeah," Sara said. "It's amazing what people can do to each other." She began to pack away her things. "I promise you, Jessica, that we will do our best to catch these people, and to make sure that they never do anything like this to anyone else."

"Thank you, Sara," Jessica said.

Sara closed her kit and grabbed Jessica's hand. "You've been so brave," she said. "You just keep being brave, and don't let this ruin your life. If you start to live in fear, you've let them beat you. Just … stay strong, okay?"

"I will," Jessica promised.

Sara squeezed her hand. "Good. Feel better."

"I will," Jessica said again.

With one parting smile, Sara left the hospital. She needed to get back to the lab to start processing all her evidence.

* * *

"Hey, girl," Warrick said as he walked into the layout room. "How did it go at the hospital?"

"I think that _good_ would be an overstatement," Sara said. She waved her hand to indicate the pictures on the table. "This is Jessica Hershbaum."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." Sara looked up at Warrick. "How far is your scene from Grissom's?"

"Five blocks. Nick and I are thinking that the two might be connected. Why do you ask?"

"Jessica told me that she heard one of her assailants saying that she was number two."

Warrick's eyebrows shot up. "I hope that doesn't mean they're working with a quota."

"Yeah, you and me both."

"Well, Catherine's working on their vic's clothes right now, trying to isolate shoe patterns. Have you started on Jessica's clothes yet?"

"No."

"Okay," Warrick said. "I'll do that. Where are they?"

Sara pointed to a sealed evidence bag. "Knock yourself out."

Smiling, Warrick opened the bag and took out Jessica's party dress. "She sure was dressed for a night on the town."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "She was celebrating her break up. Said she wanted to try out the 'what happens in Vegas' thing."

Warrick shook his head as he began identifying shoe impressions. "Don't let Nick find out. He's upset enough over how naïve tourists are."

Sara smiled. "I thought you were the one who was anti-tourist."

"Ah, that's just because I grew up here," Warrick said. "You can't be a teenager in Vegas without hating tourists. Talk to Lindsey. I'll be she's full of stories about the way they wreck her life."

"She's a teenager," Sara said sardonically. "I'm sure _most_ things wreck her life."

Warrick laughed. "True."

"I'm going to go find Catherine and see if she'll share her clothes with us," Sara said. "We'll need to find out if we have any common patterns."

"Okay," Warrick agreed. "I'll be right here."

* * *

Grissom sat in his office, comparing notes from the two crime scenes. He was sure they were connected. There were too many commonalities for them to be isolated incidents.

His phone rang, shaking him from his thoughts. He picked it up.

"Grissom."

"Hi, Grissom, it's Sofia. I'm at that liquor store robbery; it looks like it may be connected to your other cases."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No," she said. "But, can you come down here? I have a sweater the store owner grabbed from one of the suspects. I need to have it bagged and processed."

"I'll send someone," Grissom agreed.

"Perfect. Thanks a lot."

"No problem."

Grissom hung up his phone and left his office in search of an available CSI. He came upon one almost immediately; Greg was dancing down the hall, still high on life after sealing the fate of the suspect in his first jury trial.

"Greg," he said, filling out an assignment slip, "lose the monkey suit; you've got a scene. Liquor store robbery. Here's the address."

Greg took the assignment slip with a nod. "Related to the earlier 415s?"

"Could be," Grissom said noncommittally. "Sofia's got one of the suspects' sweaters. Seal it, bring it back here, and anything else you can find."

"All right," Greg agreed cheerfully. "Who's my wingman?"

"You're a big boy, Greg; you don't need a wingman for this."

"Primary," Greg said, barely suppressing his grin. "Nice."

With Greg off and running, Grissom set off to see how the others were doing. He found Warrick and Catherine comparing notes on the scenes. Nick, they informed him, was taking samples to Hodges for analysis. Sara was working on shoe impressions in the garage.

"The garage?" Grissom repeated.

"Yeah, she's doing some experiment," Warrick said with a shrug. "Said she wanted to see how the shoes made contact or something." He grinned. "Personally, I think she wanted to kick something and found an excuse to do it."

Grissom smiled. "Thanks. Let me know if you find anything."

"We will," Catherine promised.

Grissom left them and headed for the garage. As he closed in on his destination, he could see Sara, just as Warrick predicted, kicking a dummy. The dummy was dressed completely in white; Sara had stepped in black power to make sure that her shoes left good impressions on it. She was wearing coveralls, but the top half was knotted around her waist, showing off the tank top she was wearing under them. Grissom grimaced as he watched her inflict further damage on the dummy, but couldn't help noticing the extremely attractive picture she presented.

"Whoa!" he said as he entered the room. "Pick on somebody your own size!"

Sara straightened up and turned to look at him, brushing a strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail out of her face. She tried to hide a smile.

"Are you volunteering?"

Grissom looked at her for a minute, thinking that, dressed as she was, with her hair back and beads of sweat collecting on her face and neck she wasn't just attractive – she looked incredibly sexy. The way that she looked at him … he knew what she was asking. He cocked an eyebrow.

"No," he said with a shake of his head.

_Yes!_ his brain screamed. He'd love nothing more than to fool around with her right here, in the garage. To kiss her … to slip his hands under those coveralls … to feel her moving against him …

"The two scenes are related," Sara said, stepping toward the mannequins that were displaying the victims' clothes.

Grissom followed her, feeling somewhat relieved. Concentrating on work would keep him from thinking about her … and what he'd like to do with her.

Sara showed him the common shoe treads she had found, and explained which ones she had identified. Grissom listened in silence as he brought himself back into work mode, finally asking questions and joining in her analysis of the evidence. They determined that the victims had both been on the ground for most of their beatings.

"Kicked to death," Sara said.

"What could they have done to inspire such rage?" he asked.

Sara shook her head. "I talked to Jessica, Griss. The girl was a tourist, in town to forget about the boyfriend she just broke up with. She came alone; she didn't know anyone here; she doesn't have any enemies. I think it was just …"

"Random," Grissom finished. "Brass talked to Vasco Ruiz's wife. She said that he didn't have any enemies, either. He was a quiet, well-liked man." He shook his head. "This is a mob, Sara, with a mentality that I just can't wrap my head around."

"It goes against everything we know," Sara said. "Beatings like this are almost always personal. To see something like this as a random act of violence … it's a contradiction."

"There must be a pattern," Grissom said. "We need to find it."

Sara frowned. "I don't think there is," she said. "The only thing the vics have in common is proximity."

"Well, we need to look into that, then," Grissom said. "Maybe this is some sort of neighborhood gang initiation, or –"

He was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. Sara stepped back slightly as he picked it up.

"Grissom. … Hi, Sofia. … Whoa, slow down. What happened?"

The concern in Grissom's voice brought Sara's head up. She watched a bit fearfully as his expression contorted and his eyes opened wide.

"Okay. … Yeah, we'll be right there. … Yeah. Thanks for calling, Sofia. … You, too. Stay safe. … Bye."

Grissom slowly lowered his phone and closed it. He looked at Sara with stricken eyes.

"What happened?" she asked, feeling dread seep through her.

"Greg …" Grissom paused and cleared his throat. "Greg was attacked."

"What?" Sara gasped.

"Apparently, while he was driving back from the liquor store robbery I sent him to – Sofia's case – he saw the mob attacking another person. He radioed for back up, but then drove into the alley where they were beating a man. He did his best to stop them, but …"

Sara gripped the side of the table, her eyes wide. "Is he all right?"

"Sofia said the medics were en route."

Sara bit her lip. "I've got to go," she said. "Where's the scene?"

"Sara …"

"I don't want to process anything or investigate anything," she said. "I want to see Greg. I need to know …"

Grissom nodded. "Go change. I'll get the address for you."

* * *

By the time Sara arrived at the scene, daylight had broken. Cars were parked everywhere. Police, medics, media and onlookers clogged the streets leading to the alley. Sara parked several blocks away and ran the distance to the scene. She met Sofia, who was arguing with a woman who wanted to see her son, at the crime scene tape.

"Hey," Sara said as they stepped under the tape together.

"Hi," Sofia replied, leading her to the center of the scene.

Sara looked around. Three men were lying on the ground. Medics were attending to two of the victims, but Greg was alone.

"Why isn't there a medic on Greg?" she asked, suddenly feeling nauseous.

"He's been stabilized," Sofia said. "Sara – he's going to be okay."

Relief flooded through her. Sara walked the last few steps alone, and dropped to her knees next to Greg. He looked horrible – even worse than Jessica. Bruises and dried blood covered every bit of exposed skin; his eyes were swollen shut. Swallowing the tears that threatened to surface, Sara gently touched his hair.

"Sara," he whispered.

Her eyes widened. "I didn't think you could see me."

"I can't," he said slowly through swollen lips. "I know that Sidle scent."

It was becoming harder to hold back the tears. "I'm going to take that as a compliment."

She didn't want to cry. Not in front of Greg. She needed to be the strong one. The one who offered him comfort. To fight back the tears, she looked away from him and around the alley. The other two men both had paramedics working on them. One was older; she assumed he was the original victim. The second was younger – not much older than a teenager. Sara set her jaw. He was the one who had done this to Greg. She was sure of it.

"I scratched one of them," Greg said, holding up his hand as best he could. Sara took it and looked at his fingernails. "And, you should check my vest. I think the same guy spit on me."

Sara looked down at him, horrified. Maybe it was her aversion to saliva. Maybe it was that it was so insulting. Whatever the reason, she couldn't stand the idea that someone would spit on her best friend.

"One of the cars crashed into the Denali. I guarantee there's transfer on it," Greg said, wrapping up his assessment of the scene. "You should process the scene now; me later."

Sara tried to smile. "I came here for you, Greg."

Greg worked hard to swallow, realizing what she meant. Sara the CSI wasn't kneeling next to him. It was Sara the best friend who stroked his hair.

She lost her battle. There was no way to stop the tears that slid down her cheeks.

"Hey."

Sara looked up at Nick as he put his hand on her shoulder. "Hi," she said, struggling to stop crying.

"How you doing, Greggo?" Nick asked, kneeling down beside Sara.

"I've been better," Greg said.

"Are you taking the scene?" Sara asked.

Nick nodded. "Warrick's with me."

"Good," Greg said. "I want it to be us that gets these guys."

"How many of them were there, Greg?"

"At least ten," he said, coughing slightly.

"Okay, enough talking," Sara said. "I'll tell Nick what you already told me, and you can fill in the gaps later, okay?"

"Okay," Greg agreed.

Sara looked back at Nick, but kept her hand running through Greg's hair in a soothing motion. "He – uh – Greg said that he scratched one of the suspects, and that the same one s-spit on him. He also said that their car hit the Denali, so you should – should look for – for transfer."

"Okay," Nick said, looking deeply into Sara's eyes. He grabbed her free hand and held it tightly for a minute, then changed his mind and hugged her.

Sara wrapped her free arm around him, clinging to the strength he offered.

"It's going to be okay, Sara," Nick whispered. "He's going to be fine. We'll find these lunatics. I promise."

Sara nodded against him, letting her tears fall again.

Nick held her until she released him. She wiped her hand across her eyes and gave him a small smile.

"Thanks, Nicky."

"Anytime." Nick leaned down and kissed her forehead, then stood up. "I'm going to get my kit, Greg, then I'll process you."

"Scene first," Greg insisted.

"I'll let Warrick start on the scene."

"Okay."

"I'm going to stay here with you," Sara said.

A tear leaked out from under Greg's closed eyelid. "Thanks, Sara."

She smiled through her own tears. "That's what friends are for."


	67. Senseless

A/N: Well, it's later than I anticipated, but real life basically sucks. But, finally, the conclusion of the "Fannysmackin'" moment is here! I hope you enjoy it.

Review replies for the last chapter will be forthcoming, I promise. Once again, I elected to finish the new chapter first. I adore all your reviews, and I will get to them as soon as I can.

This chapter is dedicated to one of my former students. I don't want to say that she and Sara have _a lot_ in common, but she is the one I was thinking of as I wrote the ending. She is a truly amazing, inspiring young woman, and I feel lucky to have been her teacher.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 704, "Fannysmackin'." I don't own Google, either, sadly.

* * *

_Senseless_

Sara kept her promise. She stayed by Greg's side as he waited to be transported to the hospital. She kept running her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion, but remained silent. Words weren't necessary. He knew she was there; that was enough.

It was Greg who broke the silence.

"I hit him, Sara."

Sara, who had been watching the paramedics work on one of the other men, snapped her eyes back to Greg's face. "What?"

"I hit one of the guys in the mob with the Denali." Tears leaked out from under his closed eyelids. "He was going to attack that poor man with a rock – kill him like they killed the first one. I had to do something – anything – I –"

"You did the right thing," Sara interrupted. "You saved the victim, Greg. That's what we're about. We help the victims."

"Yeah, but –"

"Don't," Sara said. "Don't second guess yourself. It's over. And, Greg, I mean it – you did the right thing."

"We're ready to transport him," a paramedic said as he appeared beside them. "Will you be riding with him?"

"Yes," Sara said immediately. "Where are we going?"

"Desert Palm."

Sara nodded and released Greg's hair. She stood up a bit stiffly and brushed dirt from her knees.

The paramedics took over, loading Greg onto a stretcher and carrying him to the ambulance. Nick and Warrick joined Sara as she watched the process.

"You're going with him?" Nick asked.

Sara nodded. "The medics said we're going to Desert Palm."

"Okay," Warrick said. "I'll call Grissom and let him know. We'll be there as soon as we can."

"Take your time," Sara said. "I think Greg will be happier to know that you're processing the scene than sitting by his bed."

"That's true," Nick agreed.

"Okay," Sara said as they loaded Greg into the back of the ambulance. "That's my cue. I'll see you guys later."

"Take care," Warrick said.

"You, too."

With a parting wave for Nick and Warrick, Sara climbed into the back of the ambulance with Greg. She held his hand as they rode to Desert Palm.

Once they arrived, she followed the gurney through the emergency entrance. She would have followed him to the exam room, but a nurse stopped her and directed her to the waiting area.

Then, she waited.

The wait seemed interminable. When she had been with Greg, she had been able to focus on him and on keeping him calm. Now, with nothing and no one to distract her, she began to think of what could have happened. The possibilities were terrifying.

"Hey."

Sara looked up as Grissom sat down beside her. Stifling a cry, she threw her arms around him. He held her tightly for a long moment, silently offering her his strength.

"I'm so scared, Gil," she whispered. "Greg could have – he could have –"

"I know," he said quietly. "I know."

Sara finally pulled herself under control and slid back into her own seat. She wiped her hand across her eyes.

"I talked to Nick," Grissom said. "He said Greg's going to be okay."

Sara nodded. "They've got him in the back now." She smiled ruefully. "I feel like I've been waiting here forever."

"Yeah, hospital waiting rooms can be like that," Grissom said, thinking of the night they had spent waiting for news about Nick after his abduction.

Sara slipped her hand into his. "We can wait together. It's not so bad anymore."

Grissom smiled and interlocked his fingers with hers.

"Excuse me."

Grissom and Sara both looked up as a nurse approached them. Without really thinking about it, they released each other's hands.

"Are you with CSI?" she asked.

"Yes," Grissom answered for both of them.

"You're friends of the CSI they brought in?"

"Yes," Sara said. "Do you have any news about him?"

"The doctors are with him now," she said. "I actually wanted to talk to you about one of the other men – Demetrius James?"

Grissom looked at Sara blankly. She frowned slightly.

"The older gentleman?" she asked.

"No, Mr. James is the younger man," she said. "The older man is Stanley Tanner. He's going to be fine."

"Good," Sara said.

"You wanted to talk about Mr. James?" Grissom asked.

"Yes."

Sara's face hardened. "How is he?" she asked stiffly.

"We're taking him into surgery now," the nurse said. "His family is on the way; we thought you'd want to talk to them."

"Of course," Grissom said.

"Also, we collected some … things … from him that we thought you might want."

Sara nodded and turned to Grissom. "Is it okay if I go collect them? I don't think I can handle sitting here waiting much longer."

"Go ahead," he said. "I'll talk to the family when they get here."

"Okay," Sara said. She stood up and followed the nurse away from the waiting area.

Grissom only waited a few moments before another nurse summoned him. Demetrius James's family had arrived.

His mother was on the verge of hysteria. His brother made feeble attempts to calm her, but he was close to losing control, too.

"Mrs. James?" Grissom asked.

She nodded distractedly.

"My name is Gil Grissom; I'm with the Crime Lab," he said. "I had a few questions about your son."

"I don't know what my Demetrius was doing in that part of town so late at night," she said. "He's a good boy. He's studying at UNLV. He's been helping his brother get his life on track. I can't understand what he was doing out so late!" She grabbed Grissom's arm. "You'll find out, won't you? You'll find out what happened to him?"

"We'll do our best," Grissom replied.

"Thank you."

"Mrs. James? I need you to sign some forms."

Grissom nodded to her, and watched as she walked away. He exhaled. Nick and Warrick had told him that their initial assessment of the scene suggested that Greg had hit a member of the mob – Demetrius James. He wasn't sure how his mother would take that bit of news.

"Excuse me? You're here with Greg Sanders?"

"Yes," Grissom said at once, turning to face the doctor.

She smiled. "I'm Dr. Simmons. I've been treating Greg since he was brought in."

"How is he?" Grissom asked.

"Quite banged up," Dr. Simmons said with a smile. "He'll be fine in the long run, but we need to keep him here for now. Aside from the bruises and lacerations, he has two cracked ribs, a sprained wrist, a bruised bicep and a concussion. I can't say how long he'll need to stay; I want to go on a day by day basis for now."

Grissom nodded. "Does he know?"

"I've talked to him about it," she said, nodding. "He's awake if you'd like to see him."

"I would," Grissom replied.

"He's in room 623."

"Thank you," Grissom said.

"You're welcome."

Dr. Simmons walked away, leaving Grissom alone. He took out his phone and sent Sara a text message with Greg's room number, then went in search of his injured colleague.

Greg's room was dim. He was lying in bed with his eyes closed. Grissom stood still for a moment, taking in the sight of Greg covered in bandages, ice and bruises. He suddenly fully understood why Sara had been so terrified. It was a miracle that Greg had survived.

He looked at him, trying to gauge if he was awake or not. Finally, he decided to chance it.

"Greg?"

Greg slowly opened one eye to look at him. "Grissom."

Grissom looked at him for a moment, silently fighting back the emotion that threatened to surface. "Just another day at the office, huh?"

"At least I can see now," Greg said.

Grissom studied him, wondering what he must have looked before the doctors and nurses had their chance to help him begin to heal.

"The guy they beat up," Greg asked, "how is he?"

Grissom gave him a small smile. "He's going to be fine."

"What about the other guy?" Greg asked. "The guy I hit?"

Grissom's expression hardened. "His name is Demetrius James. He's in surgery."

"Is he, like, a gang banger or something?"

"Actually …" Grissom began, feeling the disbelief seep through him, "he's a student at the university."

"Will he be okay?" Greg asked in a little voice.

"I don't know," Grissom answered honestly.

Greg exhaled as his head rolled to the side. Everything was suddenly so much worse.

"Has someone called your parents?" Grissom asked.

Greg shook his head.

"You should let them know," Grissom said.

"Mm," Greg moaned.

Grissom frowned slightly. "What's the matter?"

"They still think I'm in the lab," Greg replied.

"Why do they think that?" Grissom asked, completely baffled.

"When I was in high school, I never played any sports. No football … no basketball … _definitely_ no hockey."

"I never would have guessed," Grissom said.

"It wasn't by choice," Greg said. "My mom wanted four kids … ended up with only one. She always made sure I stayed close. If I got a nosebleed, she'd take me to the ER."

"Well," Grissom said slowly, "now would be the time to come clean."

Greg shook his head, fighting back tears. "My mom's gonna freak."

"You tell her that you risked your life to save someone else's," Grissom said, "and I think she'll be very proud of you."

I'm_ very proud of you._ The words went unsaid, but lingered in the air between them as though Grissom had actually spoken them.

Greg seemed to draw strength from Grissom's words – both the spoken and the unspoken – and nodded slightly, sniffling back his tears.

Grissom looked at him for a moment. "Should I …?"

Greg nodded. "I need to … sleep."

Grissom nodded. "I'll tell everyone that you're doing better. They're all so worried about you."

"Tell them hi," Greg said. "And tell Sara … thanks."

"I will," Grissom promised. "Rest. Good night, Greg."

"Bye, Griss."

Grissom nodded and turned to leave Greg's room. He stepped into the hall and saw Sara coming toward him.

"Hey," she said. "Doctor found these in Demetrius James."

Grissom took the evidence jar from her and looked inside to see a pair of contact lenses swimming in saline solution. "Contact lenses?"

"A special kind," Sara clarified. "They're called Halloween Lenses." She paused. "They're wearing costumes."

"Great," Grissom said. "It's just a game to them."

Sara shook her head. "I don't …"

"I know."

She sighed. "Have you seen Greg?"

Grissom nodded. "I was just in with him. He's doing better, so he says. He's sleeping now."

"I won't disturb him, then." Sara held her hand out for the evidence jar. "I'll take these to the lab."

"No," Grissom said.

Sara raised an eyebrow.

"Go home," he said. "Get some rest. I'll take these to the lab. We can handle everything without you for a few hours."

Sara sighed. Rest sounded wonderful. "Will you join me?" she asked.

Grissom smiled. "Let me take these to the lab first, and make sure everything's okay there. As long as they can run without me for a little while, I'll come over."

Sara smiled and leaned up to place a chaste peck on his lips. "Thank you. I'll see you soon."

Grissom smiled and touched her cheek. "I'll see you when I see you."

* * *

By the time Grissom arrived at Sara's house, she had showered and eaten something, and was lying on the couch, watching television. He gave her a tired smile as he entered the apartment.

"Hi."

"Hi," Sara said, sitting up to make room for him on the couch. "How's everything at the lab?"

"We'll have them soon," Grissom said as he sat down, reaching out to pull her to him. "Catherine used the first vic's cell phone records to find one of the girls in the gang. She gave up the name of another girl. Nick and some unis are going to get her; Brass is going to question her. We're still trying to get an ID on the ringleader – so far, all we've got is that he goes by 'Pig.'"

"Attractive."

Grissom smiled.

"Did the first girl say why they're doing this?"

Grissom sighed. "She told Catherine that it's called 'fannysmacking.' They attack tourists. As for the why … she said it's fun."

Sara looked at him in horror. "This is fun to them? Beating people to death?"

"Well, she did say that they've never killed anyone before."

"Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better," Sara said. She shook her head. "I think that girl needs a hobby."

"This is it, apparently. She told Catherine there's nothing else to do."

"In this city?" Sara asked in disbelief. "There's _always_ something to do. The entire town is open twenty-four hours!"

"I know," Grissom said. He ran his hand over his eyes.

"You're tired," Sara said, stating the obvious. She clicked off the tv and stood up. "Come on. We're going to bed."

Grissom smiled. "Sleep or extracurricular activities?"

Sara laughed. "Sleep, dear. I don't think you'd be able to stay awake for much else … and, to be honest, neither could I."

"I'd love to deny that, but I think you're right." Grissom took her outstretched hand and pulled himself off the couch. "Maybe by the time we get back to work, they'll have them all in custody."

"We can hope."

* * *

When they got back to the lab later that night, they found Warrick and Catherine sitting together in the break room. Both their cell phones were on the table in front of them. They were staring at them as though willing them to ring.

"Okay," Grissom said. "What is going on?"

"Nick sent a text message to everyone in the mob telling them to meet at a warehouse," Warrick said. "He, Brass, Sofia and about a hundred unis went out to round them up. We're waiting to hear from him."

Sara's eyes widened as she sat down next to him. "How did he pull that off?"

"We had some help," Catherine said. "Brass got Tara – the second girl we pulled in – to write the sort of text message that Pig would send. Nick sent it through the computer so he could use Pig's number. Then, he used Tara's number to text Pig."

"Well," Grissom said, sitting down next to Catherine, "that should be effective."

"Yeah," Warrick said. "We just want to hear that everyone's okay."

"Nicky knows enough to take care of himself," Sara said. "And, Brass and Sofia aren't going to take any chances. We all know what this mob is capable of."

"Yeah," Warrick said again. He gave Sara a rueful smile. "I'm just worried that Nicky will pull a Sara and decide that getting the evidence or the suspect is more important than staying safe."

Sara smiled and wrinkled up her nose. "I haven't done anything like that in ages."

"Right. Nothing we've heard about, at least."

Sara gave his shoulder a shove. Warrick smiled at her, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I'm worried about him," he said quietly.

Sara leaned her head on his shoulder. "I am, too."

Catherine's phone began to ring. Grissom sat up straight, Sara's head popped back up, and Warrick's fingers clenched around her shoulder. Catherine grabbed her phone.

"Willows. … Nicky! Are you okay? … Thank God. … Really? … That's great! … Yeah, he is. We're all here. … I'll tell him. … We'll see you when you get back. … Bye."

Catherine snapped her phone closed and gave them all a beaming smile. "He's on his way back now. It worked! They all showed up, and they're bringing them in now." She frowned slightly. "Warrick, he said to tell you that Pig is the guy you met at Greg's crime scene."

"Guy from the scene?" Warrick frowned. His eyes widened as understanding dawned. "Oh, that asshole. He was taunting us. Nick finally snapped and hit him." He shook his head. "I don't know what got into him, other than that idiot. I can't believe he stuck around to mess with us after all he'd done."

Grissom shrugged. "Hiding in plain sight. We've seen it before."

"Yeah," Warrick agreed. He smiled. "Hey, you know who Pig looks like?"

"Who?" Sara asked.

"K-Fed."

"Britney's husband?"

"Yeah. The resemblance is creepy, actually …"

Catherine laughed. "You two watch too much tv."

"Well," Grissom said, standing up, "I think it's time for all of us to get to work. We need to get our evidence in order and everything wrapped up so that charges can be filed."

"Sounds like a fun night," Sara said sarcastically.

"Ah, cheer up," Warrick said as they stood up. "Maybe someone will be killed."

"We can only hope," Sara said sardonically.

Grissom smiled. "Sara, I promise, the first homicide is yours."

Sara grinned at him. "You're too good to me, Griss."

"Well, I try."

* * *

Luck was not on Sara's side. No homicide calls came in; the entire team spent the shift building a solid case against the members of the mob. Sara had to admit that it was not as bad as she had feared. Everyone was riding high on their success, and worked together cheerfully.

At the end of their shift, they walked to the locker room together; Catherine stopping just outside it to take a phone call. Nick walked in first and opened his locker.

"Oh, Warrick, I brought you this," he said, pulling out a magazine.

Warrick caught it as it flew toward him and sat down to flip through it. "The high school football edition?"

"Yeah, they've got profiles of the best prospects from the entire country."

"Cool. Thanks, Nicky."

Nick grinned. "You're welcome."

Sara opened her locker. "I am going to pick up some Roberto's; take it over to Greg. I'm sure he's sick of that hospital food. Anybody want to come?"

"I'll take a ride with you," Warrick said, glancing up from his magazine, "but, uh, I'm gonna pass on the Mexican food at ten in the morning."

Sara grinned.

Nick chuckled. "No, I'd like to see Greg. I'm definitely in, okay?"

Sara nodded.

Catherine appeared in the doorway. "Pig and the Piglets are in the pig pen."

"About time," Warrick said. "Finally, some good news."

"Did you know that Pig, AKA Cole Tritt, was the only adult?" Catherine continued. "The rest of them were under eighteen; one was only fourteen."

Sara exhaled and looked back at the others. Warrick's horrified face mirrored hers.

"You're kidding," he said. "Who _raises_ these kids?"

"I mean, they weren't all delinquents," Catherine said. "Demetrius James was a college student."

"Hanging out with the wrong crowd in the wrong town," Nick said. "I'm telling you, a fake ID in Vegas is like having a free ticket on the hell train. Sex, drugs, gambling … no adult supervision, 24/7. By the time they're 21, they've done and seen it all."

"Make me slit my wrists, why don't you?" Catherine exclaimed. "I'm raising a teenager here!"

"You're doing a great job; Lindsey's going to turn out to be a beautiful young woman," Warrick said. "Besides, I grew up in Vegas; I didn't turn out so bad, did I?"

"Yeah," Nick said. "That was pre-Mirage back when you were a little squirt, going to the casino, playing the arcade games. Vegas is a different animal now."

"Yeah, these kids need to beat people up in the street to be entertained," Warrick said. "They need some good discipline. They need their grandmother whoopin' their ass like I had."

Nick nodded his agreement. "Good slap!"

"You know," Sara said, smiling slightly, "it kind of sounds like you guys are blaming everybody but these kids. I mean, you don't get a bye because you grew up here or your parents are on drugs." Her face turned serious and rather sorrowful as she looked from Nick and Warrick to Grissom, who stood at his own locker in the back of the room. "Those kids were perfectly capable of telling the difference between a wild night out and … beating someone to death."

"The truth is," Grissom said, looking straight at Sara, "a moral compass can only point you in the right direction; it can't make you go there." His eyes shifted from Sara to look around at the others. "Our culture preaches that you shouldn't be ashamed of anything you do anymore. And, unfortunately, this city is built on the principle that there's no such thing as guilt. Do whatever you want! We won't tell. So, without a conscience, there's nothing to stop you from killing someone. And, evidently, you don't even have to feel bad about it."

A contemplative silence followed Grissom's words. Warrick broke the tension with a grin.

"I can see that they didn't consult Griss when they started that 'what happens in Vegas' campaign."

Grissom smiled. "I would have suggested something else."

"You have a point, though," Catherine said. "Vegas was founded on illicit activity. It's America's playground. You don't come here to be serious, you come here to escape. When that's the point behind your city, you don't tend to create an atmosphere that gives teenagers anything … solid, I guess."

"Which goes back to the family," Warrick said. "My grandmother kept me in line. These kids' parents can do the same for them."

"But, they're fighting an uphill battle," Grissom said.

"Yeah," Catherine agreed quietly, thinking of the fights she had had with her daughter about everything from clothes to friends to curfews. "You have to be willing to fight. And fight hard."

Sara slammed her locker closed. The conversation was becoming circular and was taking the wind out of her sails. "All right, guys, I'm ready. Do you still want to come along?"

"Yeah," Nick said, closing his own locker.

"Let's go." Warrick stood up and tucked his magazine under his arm. "We don't want to keep Greg waiting."

* * *

Greg remained in the hospital for a week. Even after his release, he was not allowed to return to work for another two. Sara thought that it might have been better for him to get back into the lab – and the field – sooner. In her mind, working would help to conquer any linger fears he may have had. But, Greg didn't complain about the doctor's orders; he was more relieved to be home than anything.

The day after Greg was released, Grissom entered Sara's apartment to discover her in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot on the stove. He smiled and came up behind her, brushing her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck.

"What are you making?" he whispered against her ear.

"Pasta," she replied. "I'm going to take it over to Greg. I'm sure he doesn't feel up to cooking yet; I want to make sure he's eating something other than take-out."

Grissom smiled and kissed her cheek. "That's very sweet. What kind of sauce are you making?"

"Well, I haven't decided yet," she replied. "I was thinking maybe pesto…"

Grissom raised his eyebrows. "You know how to make pesto?"

"No…but isn't that why we have Google?"

Grissom smiled. "I'll help."

It was Sara's turn to look surprised. "You know how to make pesto?"

"But, of course," Grissom said, moving to the sink to wash his hands.

"Wow. I didn't know that."

"I have many talents, my dear." Grissom took a sauce pan from her cabinet and put it on the stove. "You know, I think we should make a couple different sauces. We'll give Greg some options."

"Wow," Sara said again. "That's really thoughtful."

Grissom grinned. "Well, I was thinking that, after we make the pesto, I'll run to the store and get some meat. We need to make him a nice, red meat sauce."

Sara made a face. "I am so not helping with that."

"I didn't think you would. But, I think that Greg would appreciate having some meat-based dishes along with all the vegetarian things you'll undoubtedly make him over the next couple weeks."

Sara closed the distance between them and kissed Grissom. "You really do care about him, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I do," Grissom replied. He wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. "He's dealing with so much– especially now that Demetrius James has died. And, I have a feeling it's going to get far worse before it gets better."

Sara nodded. "I think you're right about that."

"What Greg did was incredibly heroic," Grissom continued. "I'm just afraid he'll never see it that way."

"He won't," Sara said simply. "All he'll see is that he involuntarily killed someone." She shook her head. "This all could have been avoided if those kids had just realized what they were doing. If they had just seen …"

"They're _kids_, Sara," Grissom said. He tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. "You, honey, are a rarity. Most children can't raise themselves the way you did. Most don't have moral compass on their own, much less the ability to follow it. They need to be taught the difference between right and wrong. I know that you didn't have the best of homes, but you –"

"I'm no saint," Sara interrupted. "I had no idea how a real family worked until I lived with someone else's. I wish I had known when I was younger. I wish my parents could have shown me the same stability that others' parents show them. I wish I had grown up somewhere else.

"But, you know what?" she continued. "I survived. I lived through watching my father beat my mother. I lived through being slapped across the face for knocking over a glass of milk. I lived through the foster system. I lived through the murder trial. I lived through having my mother taken away from me." She shook her head. "I never felt the need to beat people to death. I never felt the need to break the law. I never –"

"You are amazing," Grissom said, leaning his forehead against hers. "You truly beat the odds, Sara. You lived through so much, and you didn't let any of it drag you under. You could have become a delinquent so easily, and everyone would have attributed it to your background. You are the strongest person I've ever met, and I know – _I know_ – that my life is better and richer for having you in it."

Sara blinked back tears as she leaned in to kiss him.

They would get back to their sauces. They would work together to make Greg main courses, side dishes and desserts. But, first, they spent a moment together, demonstrating how much they loved each other without ever saying the words.


	68. Someone to Watch over Me

A/N: I really hope I'm wrong, but I have a terrible feeling that we might need a little happy GSR to escape to after tonight … So, here it is! I hope you like it. And, I hope we all like the outcome of tonight's episode.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is taken from episodes 705, "Double Cross" and 706, "Burn Out."

* * *

_Someone to Watch over Me_

"Hey."

Sara looked up from the results Hodges had given her to see Greg standing in the layout room doorway, smiling at her. She gasped and jumped up.

"Greg!" she exclaimed as she crossed to hug him. "What are you doing here?"

"Doctor said I could come back," he replied, hugging her tightly. "So, here I am."

Sara shook her head, looking at the bruises that were still visible on his face. "Are you sure you're feeling up to this?"

"I'm sure," he replied confidently. "If I had stayed home another day, I think I would have lost my mind."

Sara grinned. "Cabin fever?"

"You have no idea."

"Does Grissom know you're here?"

"I just came from his office." Greg glanced at his watch. "Did you come in early? Shift doesn't start for another half hour. I mean, it's one thing to see Grissom here and working early, but you don't always do this."

"I did today," Sara sighed. "This case … it's killing me."

"Maybe I can help," Greg offered. "I'm stuck on desk duty indefinitely, so anything I can do here would be great."

"Indefinitely?" Sara repeated.

"Yeah. Doctor wants to take it on a week by week basis, and Grissom was all for it." He shrugged. "I'm just glad to be out of the house. I'll stay in the lab for awhile if it makes them happy."

Sara smiled. "Well, I'm sure it's for the best. We don't want you to re-injure yourself."

"No," Greg agreed. "So, tell me about the case."

"Come in," Sara said, stepping back into the room. "I'll show you my evidence."

* * *

Greg lasted on desk duty for two weeks before he cracked. He walked into Grissom's office, his face set with determination.

"Griss, can we talk?"

Sara and Nick, who were sitting in front of Grissom's desk, talking about a particularly confusing piece of evidence in their most recent case, turned to look at Greg. Noting his resolute, take-no-prisoners, fight-for-your-rights expression, they looked at each other, silently agreeing on their course of action.

"Should we leave?" Nick asked.

"No, you can stay," Greg said. "I'll be quick."

"Okay, Greg," Grissom said. "What's bothering you?"

"I need to get back into the field," he said in a rush. "I can't handle sitting in this lab anymore."

Grissom smiled slightly. "Greg, we have to follow your doctor's orders. Until she releases you to work in the field again, I can't let you move beyond desk duty."

"She did," Greg said, handing over an envelope. "I just saw her today."

Sara's eyes widened. She turned to look at Nick, who was smiling.

"Okay," Grissom said, reading over the release forms. "Congratulations. You're allowed back in the field. But, you're not working solo, and you're not doing anything other than what Catherine or I say you can do. Understood?"

"Yes," Greg agreed, his grin lighting up the office. "Thanks, Griss." He turned to his colleagues. "Sara, I'm going to go finish the report on that case we were working, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Sara replied.

Greg grinned again and nearly danced out of the office.

As soon as he was gone, Sara's head snapped to Grissom. "Are you insane?"

Grissom frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Grissom! Look at him! You can still see the bruises from where those kids – from where they – Griss, you can't let him back in the field. Not yet."

"I think you did the right thing," Nick said before Grissom had time to react. "He needs to get back into the field. The sooner the better." Nick looked straight at Sara. "Believe me, Sar, I know what I'm talking about."

Sara's eyes widened as she realized what Nick meant. "Nicky …"

"Listen, I'm just saying that working – _really_ working, not doing desk duty – is the best therapy out there. I think it's great that Greg wants to get back out there, and, Grissom, I think it's great that you're letting him."

Grissom shrugged. "His doctor is the one who had to 'let him,' not me. As long as she says he can do field work, he can do field work." He cleared his throat. "Now, Nick, you said that the chemicals were found near the body?"

"On it, actually."

Nick continued his description of their crime scene, but Sara barely heard him. She understood what he meant when he said that working was therapeutic, and she was sure that if anyone understood how Greg felt, it was Nick. But, still, she worried that Greg was pushing himself to do too much, too soon.

She would keep an eye on him. He would never know, but she would make sure that he was okay – both physically and emotionally.

* * *

In the end, it wasn't Greg that needed her attention. He jumped back into his job with his familiar zeal and a new maturity and seriousness that Sara found to be very intriguing. He wasn't the same person she had mentored less than two years previously. He was growing up.

Not everyone, though, was doing as well as Greg.

It was, admittedly, a terrible case. Two twelve-year-old boys had disappeared, and their lead suspect was a pedophile who lived in their neighborhood. Unfortunately, they didn't have enough to charge him with a crime against the children; Brass managed to keep him in custody by asking for his help in profiling the person who had likely taken the boys. The man agreed to stay – but, only if he could talk to Grissom.

Sara was horrified when he told her.

"You don't really want to do this," she said. "I know you don't."

"Of course I don't want to. I _have_ to do this, Sara. This man is the most likely one to lead us to the boys, and he's only willing to talk to me."

"I know. I understand. I just know how hard this is going to be for you, that's all." Sara looked at him, noticing the slight squint he was giving her. "Are you okay?"

"Two boys are missing, and we have no idea where to find them. I don't think any of us is totally okay right now."

"Yeah, I know that. It's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"You look like you're in pain."

He waved his hand as if to wave aside her concern. "I have a headache. I'll take an aspirin when I get to PD."

"Okay," Sara said a bit doubtfully. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," he promised. "You get out there and find those boys."

Sara smiled sadly. "I'll do my best."

* * *

They did find the boys – but, only one of them was found alive. They also found that their pedophile had been involved in their disappearance. It was more innocent than they had imagined, but he was still guilty of taking them out for the evening, and for allowing one of them to die in his care.

"Well, this has been fun," Greg commented as he and Sara logged evidence in the case.

"Yeah," Sara said. She shook her head. "I will never understand people."

"I think you understand _some_ people pretty well," Greg said with a sly smile.

"Okay, I have no idea what you're getting at," Sara said. "Am I supposed to offended or shocked or –"

The ring of her cell phone cut off her question. Sighing, she pulled it from her pocket and flipped it open.

"Sidle."

"Sara, what are you doing?" Brass asked, his voice heavy with tension.

"Logging evidence with Greg."

"Leave it with Greg and get over to PD."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "What's going on, Jim?"

He lowered his voice. "Listen, Gil's on the couch in my office, dying a slow, migraine-related death. He needs to go home, but I can't convince him to leave. He keeps saying that he still has two hours to go in his shift, and that –"

"I'm on my way," Sara interrupted. "I _knew_ something bigger than a headache was wrong with him. Tell him not to move."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Thanks, Brass. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"See you then."

Sara closed her phone and turned to Greg. "I've got to go."

"Okay," he replied without question. "I've got this."

"Thanks," she said, giving him an apologetic smile. "We'll catch up later?"

"Sure."

One last smile for Greg and she was off, rushing through the halls of the lab. She hurried to her car and left the parking garage at break-neck speed; she didn't slow down until she reached the PD lot. She had made it in record time.

The halls of the department passed in a blur as she nearly ran to Jim's office. He met her outside the closed door.

"I didn't know you had a private jet," he joked. "How did you make it here so fast?"

Sara waved aside his teasing. "He's still inside?"

"Yeah. I'll stay out here and make sure you're not disturbed."

Sara smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Jim. We owe you one."

Brass shook his head. "_He_ owes me one."

Smiling in acknowledgement, Sara walked past him and slowly turned the office doorknob. She entered silently, softly closing the door behind her.

Grissom was stretched out as far as Jim's small couch would allow, his hand covering his eyes to block out what little light made it through the closed shades. The tension in his posture was enough to tell Sara how much pain he felt.

She crossed the room as quietly as she could and dropped to her knees beside his head. Not wanting to make any unnecessary noise, she lightly ran her fingers through his hair.

"Sara," he whispered.

"I'm right here," she whispered back.

"How did you know?"

"Brass called me. He wants me to take you home."

Grissom started to shake his head, but thought better of it. "No. I need to finish my shift."

"I don't think it counts as _finishing your shift_ if you're lying on Jim's couch in the dark. Come on, love. I'm going to take you home."

"I don't want –"

"I'm not really interested in what you want," Sara said. "I'm more interested in what you _need_. And, right now, you need to go home. Come on. Let me help you up."

Finally conceding that he needed to go home, Grissom allowed Sara to help him to his feet. She led him to the door, pausing for a minute before opening it.

"Ready?"

He nodded. "Let's just get this over with."

Giving him a compassionate smile, Sara opened the door. Brass turned to her with raised eyebrows. He nodded slightly as Grissom followed her out of the dark office.

"You did it," he said, clearly impressed.

"You had any doubt?" Sara asked.

"I have to do what she tells me to do outside of work," Grissom said.

Brass held up his hand. "I really don't need to know any more than that."

Sara grinned. "We'll see you tomorrow, Jim. Thanks again for calling me."

"Anything to get my office back," he said, his smile belying the gruff words. "See you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jim," Grissom said, his words slurring together slightly.

Sara began walking slowly down the hall. Grissom followed just a pace behind, keeping his eyes down to avoid the brightest lights.

They stepped out into the parking lot, and Grissom fumbled to take his sunglasses from his pocket. Putting them on, he sighed with relief. Sara led him to her car and opened the passenger door for him.

"What about my car?"

"Yeah," Sara said sarcastically, "I'm absolutely letting you drive home like this. We'll get it tomorrow. And, I'll tell you right now, I don't care if people talk. Your health is more important."

Nodding meekly, Grissom lowered himself into the car. He reclined the seat almost immediately. By the time Sara made it behind the wheel, he had closed his eyes and was using his hand to shade them from what little sun made it behind his dark lenses.

Certain that he was as comfortable as he could be under the circumstances, Sara turned on the car. She immediately turned off the radio, thinking that rock music was probably not what he needed at the moment.

The ride to Grissom's townhouse was silent. When they arrived, Sara helped Grissom out of the car and led him into the house. Hank ran to meet them; Sara tossed him a treat to silence him. Grissom patted the dog absentmindedly, then followed Sara to the bedroom.

When he walked through the door, she was closing the shades. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on his bed, sighing audibly.

"Did you take something?" Sara asked.

"About two hours ago," he replied. "I can't take more for another four."

"Okay," she said. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No. I just need …"

"Quiet and dark," Sara finished for him. "I know."

She surprised him by sitting down on the bed with him and putting her hand into his pocket. He frowned until he realized what she was doing; she took her hand away clutching his cell phone.

"I'm turning it off," she said. "You certainly don't need to take any calls right now."

Pocketing his phone, she pulled a blanket up over him. She tucked it into place with gentle hands.

He smiled slightly. "You should live here," he mumbled. "You could take care of me all the time."

Sara smiled and brushed his hair back. She leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Sleep, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

"Mm-hm."

With one last look to assure herself that he truly was going to submit to sleeping without his cell phone on his nightstand, Sara left the bedroom, silently closing the door behind her.

* * *

Several hours later, Grissom woke up. He was disoriented for a moment; he shook his head to bring the details back into focus.

_Ah._

Everything came back in an instant. The case. The migraine. Trying to sleep it off in Brass's office. Sara coming in. Sara taking him home. Sara putting him to bed. Him telling her that she should move in with him.

In a moment of utter clarity, Grissom realized how much he had meant that comment. He did want her to live with him. Not just so that she could take care of him – but, so that he could take care of her. So that they could share their lives. So that they could become even more intimate.

He had a feeling that she hadn't taken him very seriously. To be fair, he had been drugged up and in extreme pain. Under the circumstances, he wouldn't have taken himself very seriously either. He needed to tell her that he had meant his words – and, to find out what she thought about going through with it.

Pulling himself out of bed, he padded into the living room. Sara was there, stretched out across his couch, reading a book. One arm hung down from the couch, allowing her to pet the dog, who was stretched out on the floor. Grissom smiled at the picture they made.

"Hi," he said.

Sara looked up in surprise. "Hi," she said. She marked her place in her book and put it on the coffee table. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," he said.

Sara sat up and he joined her on the couch. "I'm glad," she said. "You weren't doing very well for awhile there."

"I know. Thank you for everything you did. Without you, I'd probably still be in Brass's office, fighting this thing."

"Sometimes, you just need to know when to stop and give in to the inevitable," Sara said.

"Yeah," Grissom said. He took her hand and began tracing patterns across the back of it. He watched his fingers, almost afraid to look into her eyes. "Sara?"

"Yes?"

He continued to study her hand. "About what I said …"

Sara frowned. "About what you said about what?"

A red flush crept across his cheeks, but he still did not lift his eyes from their joined hands. "What do you think about moving in with me?"

Sara's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't thought that he had meant those words. "You're serious?"

He finally looked up, making eye contact. "Very. I want – I want us to share our lives. Not that we aren't now, but I think that, if we did move in together, we'd become even closer – even more intimate. We –"

Sara stopped him by putting her fingertips over his lips. "Stop. You're getting like me – over talking."

Grissom smiled as what had begun as slightly flushed cheeks bloomed into a full-out blush. "I guess I'm nervous."

"You have no reason to be nervous."

"I don't?"

"You don't," she affirmed. Her smile could have lit up the city. "You know I want to do it."

He grinned back at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. "My lease is up in two months. How does that work for you?"

Grissom grinned again, and leaned in to kiss her. Sara kissed him back, then giggled.

"I guess it works?"

"Yeah," he said, still grinning like a fool. "It works."

Sara smiled and kissed him again.


	69. Euphoria

A/N: This is just a little bit of fluff that will hopefully brighten your day! The next chapter will be more case-driven, but our geeks wanted a moment to themselves first.

By my standards, this is a short chapter. But, I love it the way it is, so I couldn't bring myself to add more. I hope you like it, too.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Euphoria_

Leaving Grissom's house to go to the lab for the start of their shift was nearly impossible. Both Grissom and Sara were in a state of euphoria over their new moving plans, and both were reluctant to leave the shelter of the townhouse. Leaving their cocoon of happiness meant thinking about something other than their personal lives and their future. After stalling as long as possible, they finally managed to pull themselves away.

They had to drive in together; Grissom's car was still in the parking lot. Sara drove with her left hand; her right hand was firmly wrapped up in Grissom's left. They didn't release each other's hands until Sara pulled into her assigned parking space.

"Well, I guess this is it," she said. "Back to reality."

"It had to happen," Grissom said. He leaned across to kiss her cheek. "We'll have some alone time later, I'm sure."

"Oh? How do you plan to pull that off?"

"When we get off work, come over. I'll make us dinner."

Sara grinned. "I'll bring dessert."

Grissom raised an eyebrow and grinned.

Sara burst into giggles. "I meant actual dessert, Griss!" She stopped laughing and gave him a seductive smile. "But, I'm sure _that_ dessert can be arranged, too."

"Mm," Grissom smiled. "I'll have to make sure we both leave on time."

"You'd better."

He smiled. "Come on. Let's go."

* * *

Sara found herself working a case with Greg. A body had been found in the park; they were called to the scene.

"Looks like he was bound," Greg commented. "Do you see the ligature marks on his wrists?"

"Hm," Sara hummed. She'd need to start packing soon, and decide what furniture to keep. She'd also have to talk to Grissom about –

"Sara!"

Sara jumped and looked at Greg. "What?" she exclaimed, her hand already traveling to her gun.

"Are you listening to me at all?"

Sara flushed, realizing that they weren't in any danger. "Um…that would be a no."

Greg looked at her as though she had lost her mind. "What's wrong with you? You came in looking like you were on cloud nine, and now you're daydreaming at a scene. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sara said, feeling a goofy grin stretch across her face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Great, actually."

Greg frowned. "Sara … are you pregnant?"

"No! Greg! No!"

He shrugged. "Hey, I've got a feeling it's a possibility."

Sara's face turned beet red. "Gregory …"

"Okay," he said, holding up his hands to ward off any attack – verbal or physical, it didn't matter. Sara could be vicious when she wanted to be. "I was wrong. I'm sorry. You're just acting really strange, that's all."

"I'm sorry," Sara said. She took a deep breath, trying to focus her attention back on the case. "Let's get back to work, shall we?"

"You're not going to tell me what has you so distracted?"

Sara shook her head. "It's none of your business."

Greg sighed. "Big sisters can be so mean."

"And, little brothers can be so annoying. Hand me a tape lift, please? I can see something on his jeans."

Realizing that he'd never get her to give anything up, Greg handed over the tape lift. He sighed. It was going to be a long shift.

* * *

"Okay, you know what? If you want this case solved, you've got to give me some help. I can't do this alone! I've been working for over fourteen hours, and –"

"Fine," Grissom said, turning off the ALS and interrupting Catherine's tirade. "Sara and Greg are already out at a scene, but ask Nick or Warrick to help you. If they're overloaded, let me know. I'll do it."

Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "You have about ten open cases of your own. When will you have the time?"

Grissom took off the goggles he had been wearing. "I'll find the time."

"What's wrong with you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're being far too agreeable."

"Am I?"

Catherine's eyes narrowed. "Don't start being difficult now. It's not going to work. I've already read your mood. It's too late to change my mind."

Grissom smiled slightly. "Am I not allowed to be in a good mood?"

"You're allowed … it's just not something I'm used to, that's all."

"Noted. Like I said, you can have Nick or Warrick. Have fun."

"Wait!" Catherine said, a bit surprised by her abrupt dismissal.

"Wait for what?" Grissom asked. "You came in here to get some back up; now you've got it. I think we're done."

"No, we're not done! I also asked what has you in such a good mood!"

"Did you? I don't remember hearing that."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "I may not have used those exact words …"

"We're done," Grissom said. "I need to get back to work."

"So, you're really not going to tell me?"

Grissom slid his goggles back into place and shook his head. "No."

He turned on the ALS and resumed his fastidious study of his victim's shirt. Realizing that she was fighting a losing battle, Catherine sighed and left the room.

* * *

Exactly one minute after their shift officially ended, Sara's phone beeped to alert her to a text message. She opened it, and a grin spread across her face.

_Message received from: Grissom_

_Shift's over. Dinner time! See you at my place?_

Grinning, Sara sent her own message back.

_Soon to be OUR place. See you soon._

She closed her phone, and hurried to gather her things. She had to stop at the bakery, then to make a very important phone call.

* * *

"Hi, Sara."

"Oh, my God, I have the biggest news, and I only have about five minutes to tell you!"

Mary laughed. "Okay, spit it out."

"I'm moving in with Grissom!" Sara nearly screamed.

"What?" Mary gasped.

"Can you believe it?" Sara asked, laughing joyfully. "He asked me last night."

"How did this happen?"

"The short version is that he had a migraine at work, and I took him home. Right before he fell asleep, he said that I should live with him so that I could always take care of him. Honestly, Mar, I just thought that he was delirious or something – that's so not something he would say. But, then, when he woke up, he said that he was serious, and the he wants us to move in together."

"So you can take care of him?"

"No. So we can share our lives."

"And, you agreed?"

"Did you really need to ask?"

Mary laughed. "I suppose not."

"You don't seem all that happy for me," Sara said cautiously.

"I don't know, Sara … don't you remember what I said about cohabitation and commitments?"

"Yeah, I remember," Sara said. "But, Mary, it's not like that."

"How so?"

"I'm not moving in with him to test it out or because I think it will lead to marriage. I'm doing it because I love him and I want to share my life with him." She paused and bit her lip, then continued in a low voice. "For us, this sort of _is_ getting married. We could be together like this for the rest of our lives, and we'd both be perfectly happy."

"Like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell?"

Sara giggled in spite of the seriousness of the conversation. "Exactly."

"Well, I wish you all the best," Mary said sincerely. "I really am happy for you, Sara. For both of you."

"Thanks," Sara said. "Hey, listen, I've got to go. I just got to Grissom's. He's making me dinner."

"Tell him hi for me – and, congratulations."

"I will," Sara said. "I'll talk to you later, Mar."

"Bye, Sara."

Sara snapped her phone closed and sighed. She had not expected that she would have to defend herself to her best friend. But, Mary did seem to understand, and she had offered her sincere congratulations. It would all be fine.

Sara got out of her car and collected her bags, then made her way into Grissom's townhouse.

"Hi!" she called as she walked though the front door.

"Hi," Grissom called back. "I'm in the kitchen!"

A considerable amount of noise preceded Sara down the hall. Grissom looked at her in surprise as she struggled into the kitchen with multiple bags. He frowned slightly. "I thought you were just bringing dessert?"

"Well, I was hungry when I left the lab," Sara said, putting her bags down on Grissom's counter. "So, by the time I got to the bakery, I was starving…"

"Ah," he said with dawning understanding. "So, you went a little overboard?"

"Maybe," she smiled. She lifted out the first item. "You know I can't pass up a cheesecake."

"Mmm," he breathed, taking it from her. "We'll put that in the fridge."

"Right," she agreed. She reached into a second bag. "And, then, I saw those cookies you like so much. The necktie ones we tried to make for Christmas."

Grissom's eyes lit up. "Really? They had them?"

"And, now you have them," she said, handing the box over with a flourish. "A whole dozen."

"Thanks," he said with a grin, opening the box to gaze adoringly at the Hungarian cookies.

"And, finally," Sara said, reaching into the last bag, "I also got a little something for breakfast."

Grissom's eyes lit up for a second time. "Kolaches?"

"Yup," Sara grinned, handing over the nut roll. "So, on a scale of one to ten, how happy are you with my ability to go to a bakery?"

"Fifteen," Grissom said. He put the nut roll down next to the cookies, and put his hands on Sara's hips, leaning down to kiss her. "Thank you for bringing my favorite treats."

"You're welcome," she smiled, linking her hands behind his neck and kissing him again.

He pulled back to smile at her. "Why are you so good to me?"

Sara smiled back up at him, feeling herself getting lost in his blue eyes. "Because I love you," she said without thinking.

As soon as the words were out, a jolt of nervous energy shot through Sara. She certainly had not meant to tell him like that. But, now he knew and …

Grissom was staring at her as though he had never really seen her before. As if she had transformed into another person right before his eyes.

"Griss?" she asked quietly. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Sara …"

"Hey," she said, reaching up to touch his cheek. "It's okay. I do love you. I think I always have. I just … I suppose you knew already. But, now that I've said it … I guess you know it for sure." She smiled. "So, there we go. I've officially made things awkward."

Grissom shook his head. "No, sweetheart. With you, it's never awkward."

He wanted to repeat the words back to her. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him – how much he loved her. But, he couldn't quite force the words – neither his own nor someone else's – past the lump that was forming in his throat.

So, he told her the only other way he knew. He kissed her.

The kiss took Sara's breath away. Of the hundreds of kisses she had shared with Grissom since they had started dating, none had been like that. He was putting his entire soul, and, more importantly, his entire _heart_ into that kiss.

When they finally ended the kiss, Sara looked up at him with teary eyes. Grissom smiled slightly, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

Sara blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling. She hugged him tightly for a moment. "I know, Gil," she whispered. "I love you, too."

* * *

"So, I've been thinking about our moving plans."

Grissom's words shattered the silence of their post-dinner reading session. He was sitting up on the couch with Sara's legs flung across his lap, her feet on one armrest, her head on the other. She dropped the journal she had been reading onto her stomach and looked at him with eyes full of questions.

"What do you mean?" she asked hesitantly. "You – you still want to do it, right?"

"Of course!" he said quickly, realizing that he had unintentionally scared her. "I was just thinking that maybe you moving in here isn't the best idea."

Sara frowned. "You want to move in with me? I don't know, Griss … my place is a lot smaller than yours."

He smiled and shook his head. "I didn't mean that, either. I was thinking … if you want … maybe we could start looking at real estate. Maybe … we could buy something. Together."

Sara felt inexplicable tears pressing against the backs of her eyes as a beaming smile lit up her face. "I love it."

Grissom began to grin with her. "Really?"

"Really. I've never owned property before."

"I wondered." He grinned. "Yet again, I get to be there for your first time. This time, I'm taking your home buying virginity."

Sara giggled. "You really are just a pervert, aren't you?"

Grissom wrinkled his nose. "You seem to like me. What does that make you?"

"Okay, okay, so you're not a pervert."

Grissom laughed. "That's all I wanted to hear."

"So, tell me more about this home buying thing. I realize we'll have to start looking at places, but what about your place? Do you think you'll be able to sell it?"

"Definitely," Grissom said, nodding his head. He put his journal down and reached for the paper on the end table. "So, where do you want to live?"

Sara smiled and closed her eyes. "Hawaii."

"That sounds lovely, dear, but it would be a tough commute."

Sara opened her eyes again and giggled. "Downtown? I loved living downtown in San Francisco."

"A much more manageable option." Grissom lowered the paper and looked at her curiously. "Why don't you live downtown now? No one made you live where you do."

"I know. I was just … afraid, I guess. I didn't know the city at all, and Nick told me that it was a safe area, so I went for it." She shook her head. "With all that we see on this job, I'm always afraid that I'll become the victim someday."

Grissom ran his hand over her calves. "I'll keep you safe."

"I know," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "I always feel safe when I'm with you."

Grissom looked at her for a long moment, then shoved her legs off his. "Come here," he said, reaching for her and pulling her tightly against him. He pressed a kiss into her temple. "You have nothing to fear."

Sara cuddled against him, relishing the feel of his strong arms locked around her. She had never felt so safe, so protected …

So loved.


	70. Unresolved

A/N: I'm pretty excited about this chapter. I hope you like it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 707, "Post Mortem." Additional inspiration is taken from episode 807, "Goodbye and Good Luck." Yeah, I know. Just go with me on this one.

* * *

_Unresolved_

With twenty minutes left before she had to leave for work, Sara sat down at her computer. A last-minute check of her email – Mary had promised to send pictures of Josie in her ballerina Halloween costume – was in order.

She didn't have any messages from Mary, but her most recent email was from Grissom. The subject line read "For your perusal" and the paperclip indicated that it came with attachments. Feeling a tingle of excitement race through her, Sara clicked on the message.

_Hi, Sara,_

_I thought you might want to see these pictures. If anything looks appealing, let me know and I'll contact Nancy to set up appointments. See you at work._

_Gil_

Grinning madly, Sara clicked on the attachments to find pictures of three different townhouses and two condos in downtown Las Vegas. While he put many things off, Grissom was proving himself to be a man of action when it came to their moving plans. He had already put his house on the market. His realtor, Nancy, was also helping them find a new place to live.

Sara immediately loved one of the townhouses and one of the condos. One townhouse looked nice, but she knew she'd have to see it in person before making a final judgment. The second condo reminded her too much of her apartment to be appealing – she wanted some different for their new home. The final townhouse looked far too small for the two of them.

She clicked reply and sent her opinions back to Grissom. Glancing at the clock, she closed her email and shut down her computer.

It was time to go to work.

* * *

"Hi," Grissom said, sticking his head into the locker room, where Sara was clipping her ID onto the pocket of her jeans.

"Hi," she replied with a smile. "Did you get my email?"

"I did," he affirmed. "I'll take care of that during normal business hours."

Sara giggled. She had a feeling Nancy wouldn't appreciate a phone call about a house at two in the morning.

"I actually wanted to talk to you about a case," Grissom said. "Jim just called with a homicide. Apparently, an older woman went through her window. Want to come along?"

"Sounds like fun," Sara said. "Let me get my kit."

Grissom nodded. "I'll meet you at the car."

* * *

The case started off well enough. Brass was there to meet them; the body was still halfway out the window; the neighbors were leaving them alone. Grissom took the body and the perimeter, leaving Sara with the inside of the house. There was enough in the room where the victim, Penny Garden, had died to keep her busy for hours.

But, as the hours of the night faded into the morning, Sara found herself getting antsy. The room truly had taken her hours, Grissom was planning to leave with David and the body, Brass was trying to track down the neighbors to get statements, and Sara hadn't found the time to call Greg.

It was truly this last that bothered her the most. When she glanced at her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes, Grissom finally realized that something was wrong.

"Okay," he said, lowering his camera, "what is going on? Do you have a hot date I'm keeping you from?"

Sara grinned. "I think I'm already there."

Grissom's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink and he smiled slightly. "Why do you keep looking at your watch?"

Sara sighed. "The coroner's inquest starts in a couple hours, and …"

"You want to talk to Greg before he goes into the courtroom," Grissom finished for her.

"Yeah."

He nodded and glanced at his own watch. "Go call him now. I don't need to leave for a little while. I'll call Catherine and ask her to come to help you. Maybe you'll be done in time to meet up with him when it's over."

Sara smiled. "Thank you."

Grissom smiled and nodded. "Go. Call him."

Sara put her camera down, and glanced around to make sure they were alone. Not seeing anyone near them, she leaned over to kiss Grissom's cheek. When she pulled back, his entire face was beet red.

"_We are at a crime scene_," he hissed.

"And, you are incredibly sweet."

Grissom rolled his eyes skyward and willed his cheeks to return to their natural shade.

"I'd tell you two to get a room, but I'm afraid you'd take me literally."

Grissom and Sara's heads both snapped around as Brass closed in on them, barely controlling his laughter.

"Control yourself, Ms. Sidle," he teased. "You're lucky I'm the only one around."

Feeling anything but lucky, Sara grabbed her phone. "I'm just going to go call Greg."

With that, she practically ran around the house to the front yard, hoping to find some privacy. Grissom looked at Brass helplessly. Brass chuckled.

"I'm not her father," he said. "All I'll say is that you'd better watch yourself. Ecklie has eyes everywhere."

"Yeah," Grissom said, his embarrassment fading into dread. "You've got that right."

Brass cleared his throat. "Anyway, the neighbor tells me that Ms. Garden was always nice to him. He says he didn't notice or hear anything going on last night. He also said that her houseguest is her nephew. He didn't know his name, and his description …" Brass paused to flip through his notes, "… leaves something to be desired. He's a white, skinny guy who wears jeans and white t-shirts."

"Well," Grissom said, "that probably only describes about a quarter of the population of Las Vegas. We're getting somewhere."

Brass chuckled. "Such an optimist. Okay, I'm going to talk to some more people. Let me know if you need anything."

"You'll want to talk to Sara about that," Grissom said. "I'm leaving with the body; she's staying."

"Got it."

Brass left and Grissom sighed. He ran his hand over his face. Brass was right. They needed to be more careful, or they'd end up giving their secret away to the wrong person. The last thing they needed was for Ecklie to find out about them.

* * *

"Sanders."

"Hi, Greg."

Greg exhaled. "Sara. Hi."

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"Pretty well, I guess."

"Did you eat breakfast?"

"I tried. I got the coffee down."

"Nothing else? Greg, you need to eat."

"Look, Sara, if you want to mother someone, have a kid."

Sara flinched. "Okay," she said quietly. "Listen, Greg, I need to get back to work. I just wanted to call to tell you good luck. That's all. I'll be thinking about you."

"Sara, wait," Greg said before she could hang up. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

"It's okay," Sara said. "I know you're stressed."

"Yeah, but I didn't need to take it out on you. Listen, I … I'll call you when I get a chance."

"Good luck," Sara said sincerely. "I know you'll do great. And, Nick, Doc Robbins and Sofia will all be there to back you up. What you did was justifiable, Greg. That's what the jury will find."

"We'll see," he said noncommittally. "I'll call you, Sara, okay?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "I'll have my phone with me."

"Okay. And, Sara … thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Bye."

"Bye," Sara said quietly.

She closed her phone and held it against her lips for a moment. Greg was hurting, and she had no idea how to help him. She felt … like a poor excuse for a friend.

Taking a deep breath, she put her phone in her pocket and ducked back under the crime scene tape. She had to get back to work.

* * *

Catherine arrived just as Grissom was leaving. She was less than thrilled with the fact that Sara had only managed to finish processing one room of the house, but got to work with her usual efficiency. She and Sara finished processing the house and returned to the lab to go over their findings with Grissom.

He came to the meeting with the news that their victim had been dying of advanced cancer.

"Cancer?" Catherine repeated. "I didn't see any pain meds in the house. Everything else under the sun, but …"

"Yeah, that's what I thought you had said," Grissom said. "I saw her lungs; I've never seen tumors like that. Al says there's no way she wasn't on pain meds. He's getting her medical records."

"We do have two suspects," Sara said. "Her neighbor, Jason Tua, and her nephew, Henry Briney. Henry's been staying with her. He's giving his statement to Brass right now."

"Good. Talk to Brass and find out what Henry had to say for himself. I'll talk to Albert and see what drugs we're missing."

"I'll go back to the house and look for the drugs again," Catherine said. "They've got to be somewhere."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "That's what makes me nervous."

* * *

Further investigation taught them that Henry had been addicted to drugs. His parents, unable to take his drug-induced lifestyle, kicked him out. His aunt Penny took him in. She saw him through rehab and made sure that he lived a clean life while he stayed with her. He seemed truly devoted to her; he swore to Brass that he'd never do anything to hurt her.

Jason, as it turned out, was a drug dealer. He was willing to admit to that much – the evidence was irrefutable – but insisted that his "profession" did not involve Penny.

Grissom reported that Penny had been prescribed a great deal of medication to help deal with the pain of her advanced lung cancer. However, none of it could be found in her bloodstream or in her house. Her nephew, too, tested clean; he had not taken the drugs.

"So," Sara said as she and Catherine walked down the hall together, "we have a drug dealer and a former drug user, both of which would have motivation to steal Penny's drugs."

"Well, there wasn't any trace of fentanyl in the nephew's system," Catherine said.

"He's broke, he's unemployed," Sara said. "Maybe he's stealing them from Penny so he can sell them to the neighbor."

"If that's the case, it's motive for both," Catherine said as they reached the reception area.

"Excuse me?"

Sara and Catherine stopped before turning down another hall and saw Penny's nephew standing by the front desk, clutching a large box.

"Hi, Henry," Sara said. "What are you doing here?"

"Um … I just found this on my porch," he said, shifting the box in his arms. "I opened it and I thought I should bring it down to you guys. It's … pretty creepy."

Sara and Catherine glanced at each other, then stepped closer. They peered into the box together and both gasped.

Henry was holding a miniature version of the crime scene. Sara's eyes snapped up to meet his.

"Creepy, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sara said.

"Put it on the counter," Catherine said. "Captain Brass got your fingerprints, right?"

"Yes, he – why?"

"We need to rule out all your prints that might be on the box or the miniature."

"I didn't touch it," Henry said.

"Good." Catherine turned to Sara. "Call Grissom. He'll want to see this. Henry, you come with me. I'm going to need every last detail of how you found this."

"All right," Henry said a bit uncertainly. He glanced at Sara.

"You did good, Henry," Sara said with an encouraging nod.

Fortified by her words, he followed Catherine down the hall. Sara took out her phone and called Grissom.

"Hi," he said.

"Griss, I need you to come to the front desk," Sara said. "You – you're not going to believe this."

"What's going on, Sara?"

"Just … meet me here. And bring gloves."

Grissom was there in less than three minutes, carrying two pairs of latex gloves. He looked rather concerned.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Sara nodded to the box on the counter. "That."

Grissom frowned slightly, then leaned over to look into the box. He startled and stared at Sara.

"Where did you find this?"

"Henry Briney, Penny Garden's nephew, brought it in. He said he found it on his porch."

Grissom snapped his gloves on and reached down to touch the blood on the window. He pulled his hand back and looked at his fingers.

"It's dry. Do you think the killer used real blood again?"

"I don't know," Sara said, shaking her head.

"Let's go to the layout room," Grissom said. "We need to compare it to the other one."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Sara and Grissom stood together in the layout room, staring down at two completely different crime scenes in miniature form. Grissom used a magnifying glass to study the intricate detail of the new scene, while Sara's eyes darted between both of them, taking in the overall pictures they presented.

"If one was horrifying," she asked, "what is two?"

"A possible serial killer," Grissom replied.

Sara glanced at him in horror. "I'd say that takes the nephew and the neighbor off the hook. I doubt either one of them could afford a mini contractor, anyway."

Grissom barely registered her subtle joke; he was fixated on one of the cushions. He picked it up and held it under the lit magnifying glass beside him. Sara leaned into his shoulder to look with him. They both stared at the image on the cushion.

"A bloody doll," she said. "Similar to the one in the other miniature …"

She rifled through photos for a moment until she came to the picture of the bloody doll they had found on the back of a frame in the first miniature. She handed it to Grissom, who held it up for comparison.

"Look at the blood on the doll's forehead," he said.

"Same pattern on both."

"Could be … two different views of the same subject."

Sara gasped. "Maybe it's the signature."

"Yeah, but we have no context," Grissom said. "It could mean or represent just about anything."

Sara drew in a sharp breath and turned back to the miniatures. "Okay," she said. "Again. The miniature suggests that the killer had an intimate familiarity with the victim, home and habits. So … what do they have in common?"

"Izzy Delancy, fifty-year-old white, male, washed-up rock star. Penny Garden, cancer-stricken retiree." Grissom finished with a slight question in his voice. He looked at Sara as though daring her to find the connection he could not.

"Different friends, different family, different social circles," she said.

"Why wasn't this one left at the crime scene like that one?" Grissom asked, gesturing to each miniature in turn.

Sara shook her head and shrugged slightly.

Once again, they were left with far more questions than answers.

* * *

The miniature did teach them one thing: the killer had been obsessive enough to include Penny's hiding place for her fentanyl. After Grissom found tiny drugs under a tiny rock in Penny's miniature flowerbed, Sara was dispatched to the crime scene, where she found the life-sized versions.

She was on her way back to the lab when her phone started to ring. She picked it up and flipped it open.

"Sidle."

"Hey, Sara, it's Sofia."

"Hi, Sofia. What can I do for you?"

"Have you … talked to Greg at all?"

"Not since right before the inquest. Why?"

Sofia exhaled. "The jury just came in. They found his actions excusable."

"Excusable?" Sara repeated in shock. "No way! Absolutely not. That should have been a justifiable verdict!"

"I agree with you," Sofia said. "Nick, Warrick, Doc Robbins, the ADA and I all did our best, but … well, let's just say the judge may have let his personal campaign get in the way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's running for Assembly," Sofia said. "I think – and the ADA agrees – that he may have bent things toward the public a little more than he should have. Letting the mother give personal testimony about what a wonderful person Demetrius was … throwing it out there that Greg had had a drink with dinner hours before shift …"

Sara groaned. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"It was a circus," Sofia acknowledged. "I wanted to let you know what happened before you saw Greg. I think … I think he really needs a friend, Sara. I tried to talk to him, but …"

"I'll find him," Sara said. "Thanks, Sofia. I really appreciate this."

"You're welcome."

Sara had barely closed her phone when it began to ring again.

"Sidle."

"Sara, I figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Sara asked, a bit surprised by the excitement in Grissom's voice.

"I figured out why the miniature wasn't at the crime scene!"

"Okay, why?"

"It was altered," Grissom said. "I don't think the murder went the way it was supposed to. The doll was originally glued to the chair, but was later moved to go through the window like Penny did."

"Okay," Sara said slowly. "What happened to change it?"

"I don't know for sure yet. Hodges is testing the liqueur we found at the scene to see if it was poisoned. I should have results by the time you get back."

"Excellent," Sara said. "I'll see you in a little bit. Oh, and Griss?"

"Yeah?"

"Sofia just called. The jury came in with an excusable verdict in Greg's inquest."

Grissom exhaled. "Well, it's not what we had hoped for, but it's still good news. Greg will keep his job and won't be disciplined in any way."

"I think he's already been disciplined enough," Sara said quietly.

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "Okay. I'm going to go bother Hodges for those results. I'll see you when you get here."

"Yeah, you will," Sara said, her smile carrying to him. "Bye."

"Bye."

* * *

Upon arriving back at the lab, Sara grabbed her copy of Penny Garden's case file and went to Grissom's office.

"Penny Garden was poisoned with nicotine," he said by way of greeting.

"Well, that's not exactly a surprise," Sara said, barely fighting back a smile. "The woman smoked like a chimney."

"She didn't smoke it," Grissom said. "She drank it. Liquid nicotine. Truman Capote used it as a murder weapon in his story _Hand Carved Coffins_, and our killer put it in Aunt Penny's liqueur bottle."

Sara stared at him in shock. She certainly had not expected that bit of news.

"A cigarette introduces approximately one milligram of nicotine into the body. The liqueur contained over _sixty_. A dose that massive can induce severe convulsions, and, evidently, mess up a meticulously crafted murder. That's why the miniature wasn't at the crime scene. The killer was compelled to fix it so that it would match what actually happened."

"Liquid nicotine is in a lot of smoking cessation products," Sara said.

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "Commonly available to just about anyone." He paused. "Any luck with the vic's calls?"

"Yeah," Sara said.

She launched into a description of the numbers Penny Garden and Izzy Delancy had called in common, ending with an untraceable number.

"It turned out to be an untraceable, disposable cell phone," she said. She narrowed her eyes. "Suggests someone who doesn't want to be found."

"Hey, boss?"

Grissom looked around Sara, and she turned to see Greg standing in Grissom's open doorway. He was still dressed in his court suit and looked less than happy.

"Unless you need me for something, I'm gonna take off," he said.

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "Take off that suit, too."

Greg gave a half-smile and turned to leave.

"And, Greg?" Grissom said.

Greg turned to look at him again.

"You did a good job," Grissom said, quiet sincerity and pride filling his voice.

"I'm glad you think so."

Sara turned to look at Grissom, her eyes tender. She knew that his words had likely made Greg feel better than her own good luck phone call, Sofia's pep talk, or the reconstruction created by Nick and Warrick to help the jury feel what it would have been like to have been in Greg's shoes the day of the attacks.

"Go after him," Grissom said.

Sara raised her eyebrows.

"He needs a friend," he explained.

Sara smiled and nodded. "I'll leave this with you?"

"Yeah," he agreed, taking the case file from her.

Sara gave him a smile, and left the office.

* * *

She found Greg in the parking garage, clutching several papers.

"Hey."

"Hey," Greg said.

"What's that?"

He shook his head. "Civil suit from the estate of Demetrius James. I was just served."

"Oh, Greg," Sara said, her face falling.

He shrugged. "All in a day's work, right?"

"Greg – let me take you out. You need to get away from here, to forget about this for a few minutes."

Greg shook his head. "No, Sara. Sam Adams can't fix it this time."

"I didn't – Greg, I just want –"

"I know what you're trying to do," he said. "And, I appreciate it. I really, really do. I just … need to be alone right now, okay?"

"Okay," Sara said quietly. "You'll call me if you need anything?"

"I will. I promise."

Sara looked at him for a moment, then leaned in to hug him tightly. "I'm proud of you, Greg. I really am."

Greg clung to her for a long moment, silent accepting the comfort she offered. He finally pulled back and gave her the closest thing to a smile she had seen from him in awhile.

"Thanks, Sara. For everything."

She smiled and released him. "I'll talk to you."

"Yeah."

Greg started toward his car. Sara watched him walk away, then turned and began her progress back into the lab.

She was on her way to Grissom's office when the conversation of two swing shift CSIs floated back to her. They were walking several paces ahead of her, discussing their most recent case. Sara knew both of them, but not well enough to call them friends.

"Hit and run," Carine said. "Both the driver – Mr. West – and his wife were killed. They were out to celebrate their anniversary."

"Oh, that's a shame. Did they have children?" Martin asked.

"Two – Marlon and Hannah. They're both teenagers."

"Marlon and Hannah West … why do those names sound familiar to me?"

"Grave had them on trial a year or so ago," Carine explained. "Marlon was on trial for killing a classmate, then Hannah confessed – while on the stand – that she had done it. In the end, neither was convicted. They cast reasonable doubt upon each other's cases."

Martin shook his head. "Man, I'm glad it was them and not us. For some reason, I always feel like Ecklie comes down harder on us for stuff like that than he does on grave."

"That's because he's afraid of Grissom," Carine said.

They both laughed and turned a corner, taking their conversation away from Sara.

Sara stopped walking and concentrated on breathing.

She had not heard anything about Hannah West in ages. Following Grissom's advice to let it go, she had not even been a part of Hannah's trial. Nick had worked on it, she knew, but Warrick had taken over as his back up. She had never told Nick, Warrick or anyone else how much the case had bothered her. When Grissom had taken her off it, no one had questioned him – or her – about it.

Now, Hannah was back at the forefront of her mind. She shook her head slightly, trying to forget about it. The case was over. Hannah may not have been punished for her crimes, but losing her parents in a hit and run accident was likely punishment enough.

Forcefully pushing it all aside, Sara began walking again. Seeing Grissom and talking about the case would be just the distraction she needed.

"Hey," she said, walking into his office.

"Hi," Grissom said, looking up at her in surprise. "I thought you'd be out with Greg."

"He said he wanted to be alone."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

Sara shrugged. "It's what he wants. I can't force my company on him."

Grissom smiled slightly. "No, I suppose you can't." He glanced past her, into the empty hallway. "How about forcing your company on me?" he asked quietly.

Sara smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Would you like that?"

"I would." He glanced at his watch. "Shift has been over for awhile. I don't think anyone would question you if you left."

"Where would I go?"

"To my place."

Sara smiled. "I'll see you there?"

"I'm right behind you."

* * *

Hank greeted Sara at the door when she arrived at Grissom's house. She played with him for several minutes, then checked to make sure he had food and water. Assuming that it could be awhile before Grissom got home – Catherine had attacked him with information about their case as Sara was leaving – she decided to take Hank for a walk.

Grissom was still not home when they returned. Hank, after taking a long drink from his water bowl, settled down in his bed for a well-deserved nap. Grinning at the dog, Sara sat down on the couch and opened her laptop.

She checked her email – Mary still had not sent the promised pictures – then read several news articles. She felt nervous the entire time, because she knew what she wanted to do … yet, knew that she shouldn't.

Just hearing Hannah West's name had reignited an interest that Sara had believed to be buried. She couldn't understand it. Hannah was just a child, but she had gotten to Sara in a way no one else had in her lifetime. No case, not even poor Pam Adler's, had bothered her the way that Hannah and Marlon's had.

She had to know. She just _had_ to. Just this one time, just this one little bit of information, and she'd never think about her again. It would be done.

Sara's fingers shook as she began typing. Within .25 seconds, Google had returned multiple links to information about Hannah West. A considerable number were related to Marlon's trial and her witness-stand confession. Several were dedicated to obituaries and articles following her parents' car accident.

Thinking that a news obituary might contain information about the West children, Sara clicked on a link. She skimmed through the information about Mr. and Mrs. West – their younger years, their marriage, their careers and their tragic death – until she found the section about their children. Skipping over what it said about Marlon, she quickly found Hannah's name.

_Their daughter, Hannah, graduated from high school at the age of 12. Upon graduation, she was emancipated and began her studies in chemistry at Harvard University_.

Sara drew in a quick breath. Hannah was studying at Harvard? She was clearly intelligent enough for the Ivy League school, but something about the idea of Hannah studying at her alma mater made Sara's stomach tie itself in knots.

"Hey."

Sara looked up as Grissom walked in. She arranged her face into a cheerful smile. "Hi."

"What are you doing?"

"Looking at houses," Sara said, clicking back to her email and opening one of the pictures Grissom had sent her.

He came around to stand next to her and look at the picture. He smiled and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. "I talked to Nancy earlier. We're going to see that one on Sunday afternoon."

Sara smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "Thank you."

Grissom raised his eyebrows and smiled. "All I did was to make a phone call. But, you're welcome."

Sara returned his smile with one of her own. "Want to look at some more houses?"

"Sure."

Grissom sat down next to her on the couch, watching as Sara began to search for houses in their price range. He smiled and put his hand over hers, momentarily stopping her search. She looked at him in confusion.

"I'm glad we're doing this."

A beaming smile lit up her face. "Me, too."


	71. The Future

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Aussieforgood. Although your reverse psychology didn't work, your not-so-gentle prodding all week long helped me make sure this chapter was ready to be posted today. Thanks for all your help!

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 708, "Happenstance."

Information about Williams College is courtesy of Wikipedia.

Grissom quotes two different sources in this chapter. The first, obviously, is Thoreau's Walden Pond. The second is a quote from John Donne.

* * *

_The Future_

"Okay," Nancy said as she led them up the walkway to the first townhouse on their list. "I think you're going to love this place. You already know the area, so I'll spare you my speech about neighbors and schools. I will say, though, that the current owners are in a bit of a time-crunch to sell, so you may be able to get it for considerably lower than the asking price."

Grissom and Sara glanced at each other. The townhouse was at the top of their price range, so that bit of information was good to know.

"They've done a lot of improvements to the house," Nancy continued. "I think you're going to like it."

"We hope so," Grissom said, taking Sara's hand as Nancy unlocked the door.

She smiled at them. "Here we are," she said, opening the door.

Grissom ushered Sara in ahead of him. She paused in the foyer, taking in the hardwood floors with a smile.

"I love the floors," she said.

Grissom nodded his agreement. "Let's see the rest of it."

"The living room is through here," Nancy said, leading them down the hall. "That is a working fireplace."

Sara smiled and took Grissom's hand again. "I've always wanted a working fireplace."

"Really?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Sara nodded. "Living in California and Nevada, it's never been a necessity … but, I love the idea of sitting in front of a fire in the wintertime."

Grissom smiled, already forming a mental picture of the two of them curled up together on a plush rug in front of a roaring fire. "Well, then, this place is looking very attractive right now."

Sara nodded her agreement.

"The kitchen is this way," Nancy said, breaking the spell to lead them deeper into the house.

Grissom frowned as they entered the room that looked like something straight out of 1990. "I thought you said they had done home improvements?"

"They have," Nancy said. "Just wait until you see the master suite. The bathroom is amazing."

Sara's face lit up. "Does it have a whirlpool tub?"

"It does," Nancy confirmed.

Sara squeezed Grissom's hand. "I've always wanted one of those, too."

Grissom did not respond. Sara frowned at him.

"Gil? What's wrong?"

He looked at her in disbelief. "Honey … we need a bigger kitchen than this."

Sara's frown deepened. "Gil. There are two of us. How big of a kitchen do we need?"

"Maybe not _bigger_, exactly, just … more modern. With more …"

Sara looked around, finally taking in the entire kitchen. It was a fair size – she wasn't sure why Grissom wanted something bigger – and had nice windows that faced into the backyard. A door led to the deck; Sara had a feeling that it would be the perfect place to let Hank run outside. Granted, the floor was linoleum, the countertops were Formica, the appliances were white and the wallpaper reminded her of something a grandmother would have in her kitchen, but those were all details.

"It's not going to work," Grissom sighed.

"We still need to see the rest of the house," Sara said cautiously.

Grissom looked like he'd rather work a triple homicide on his own, but sighed again and nodded. He dutifully followed Sara through the rest of the house, but made very few comments.

"Well," Nancy said brightly as they stepped outside. "What did you think?"

Sara glanced at Grissom. "I think we'd like to see another," she said.

"Excellent," Nancy replied. "Your next house is only a few miles from here. Shall we?"

Sara nodded; she and Grissom climbed into his car to follow Nancy to the next house. Sara looked at Grissom as he back out of the driveway.

"What happened in there?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, one minute, you were agreeing with me on floors and fireplaces, and the next you totally clammed up! What happened?"

"Sara, that kitchen was awful," he said. "We can't live in a place with a kitchen like that."

"We can always upgrade it later," she said. "The rest of the house was great, Gil."

He shook his head. "No. We need a _real_ kitchen."

"A _real_ kitchen?" she repeated.

"One we can cook in," he said, thinking that there was no possible way to make this any clearer to her. "We need quality appliances. Ambiance. We need … think of how nice our lab is, and all we do there is to run experiments. Don't you think our kitchen should be at least as nice?"

Sara nodded slowly, thinking of the gorgeous kitchen in his current home. She had never thought much about it, but it was obviously part of the reason he had purchased the house. "So, the kitchen is a deal-breaker for you?"

"It is."

"Okay. Good to know."

They arrived at the second townhouse, and once again followed Nancy inside. This time, Sara checked at the living room.

"It's carpeted," she said.

"Yes, they have wall to wall in all rooms except for the kitchen, baths and hallways," Nancy said. "It was installed just last year, so it's still quite new."

"Good," Grissom said.

"Shall we look at the kitchen?"

"Of course." Grissom started to follow Nancy, then realized that Sara wasn't with them. She was still standing in the living room. "Sara?"

She shook her head, rousing herself. "Sorry." She hurried to catch up.

The kitchen was Grissom's dream come true. Slate floors, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances … he was in love. He turned to Sara with a beaming smile.

"This is perfect."

"The kitchen is nice," she said slowly, coaxing forth a smile.

Grissom looked at her for a long moment. "You don't like it."

"I like the kitchen."

"But, not the rest of the house?"

"Let's go see the master."

Again, Sara was disappointed. The master suite, too, had carpeted floors, and did not have a whirlpool tub.

This time, it was Sara whose shoulders slumped in defeat as they climbed into the car. Grissom glanced at her.

"What didn't you like about it?"

"The carpeting and the master bathroom."

Grissom frowned. "You don't like carpeting?"

"I hate it," Sara said empathetically. "It just … holds germs. Lets them fester. Ugh, it's gross. We can't have it."

"And, the bathroom?"

She smiled. "I've always wanted a whirlpool tub. Can you imagine how wonderful it will be to come home from work and just relax in the tub?" She closed her eyes in anticipation. "If we're going to buy a place, it needs a nice master bath."

Grissom's eyes opened wide as he thought of all the ways they could unwind in a tub like that. He swallowed. "Yeah," he said. "You're right about that."

Sara opened her eyes and looked at him, realizing in a moment what he was thinking. She giggled. "Yeah. No carpet and a nice bathroom."

Grissom shook his head slightly, bringing himself back into the moment. "So, those are your deal-breakers?"

"Yes." She sighed and leaned back against the headrest. "I didn't realize we'd have such different ideas about houses."

"Well, now we're learning what they are," Grissom said. He reached across to squeeze her hand. "We'll find a place, Sara. I know it."

She smiled. "Yeah. How hard can it be?"

* * *

_Quite_. They spent the next several weeks researching houses online and visiting them with Nancy. Nothing seemed to make them happy.

Never had Sara put so much effort into finding a place to live. Granted, there was a vast difference between renting an apartment alone and buying a house with another person; but even with that knowledge, she had not anticipated how much time and energy would be involved in the process.

She also had not expected that she and Grissom would have such trouble agreeing on a house. Nor had she thought that _he_ would be the one to insist that they find a house with a huge, modern, upgraded kitchen. She had known that he liked to cook, but had never realized how much the kitchen meant to him. She was learning so much about him during this home search – and, she had to admit, it only made her love him more.

She just hoped that love would survive their house-hunting adventures.

* * *

To say that it was a surprise would be an understatement.

To say that it was unattractive would be a lie.

To say that he didn't want to go would be unthinkable.

Grissom had heard of Williams College, of course. It, along with Amherst College and Wesleyan University, formed part of the Little Three. Beyond that, he knew only what the letter told him: Williams' academic year included a winter term that lasted the month of January and forced the students to study something outside their normal comfort zone.

For the coming January term, the school wanted to offer an interdisciplinary graduate seminar focusing on Walden Pond and featuring guest professors with expertise in several fields. In Grissom's case, they were looking for an entomologist with a distinguished career in forensics.

As the letter pointed out, teaching this seminar would require him to take a sabbatical. He knew it wouldn't be a problem. He often took time off to lecture at conferences. Although this would be a longer commitment, he was sure that Ecklie would recognize the benefit of the seminar on Grissom's C.V. – it would bring prestige to the lab. And, his team wasn't a concern. He knew that Catherine could handle running the shift in his absence.

Grissom felt a thrill of excitement shoot through him. He had never been to rural northwestern Massachusetts. It would be beautiful in January. Cold, but beautiful. When had he last seen a true snowfall?

And, he had to admit that the break, the change of pace, would be welcome. The brief trip to San Francisco with Sara over the summer had been wonderful, but it had not been relaxing or restful enough to stave off all the stress of everyday life. Perhaps if they had taken a longer trip … but, it just wasn't possible. He could barely manage to schedule a long weekend for both of them without raising eyebrows.

But, this month at Williams would be exactly what he needed. A change of pace, a change of scenery, a chance to _teach_ again … even Greg didn't really need him as a teacher anymore. Reading the letter made him realize how excited he was to teach– and how much he had missed it since all his CSIs had, in a sense, grown up.

"Our two cases have become one."

Catherine's entrance into his office shook Grissom from his musings about the seminar. He folded up the letter as she stepped closer to his desk. There was no reason for her to see it just yet. He hadn't made a final decision. There were so many factors to consider.

But, as he discussed the case with Catherine, he knew that his decision was made. It was an opportunity that he just couldn't let slip away.

* * *

Sara sat on a bench outside the courtroom, staring blankly into space. She had been in the same position for over five hours, waiting for her turn to be called to the stand. She knew that ADA Klein had quite a few others scheduled to testify before Sara, but she had assured Sara upon her arrival that morning that her testimony was hugely important. Surely, she would be called soon.

The courtroom doors opened, and a flood of people began to exit. Sara, realizing what this meant, sighed. She stood and waited to talk to Maddie, who would likely be one of the last people to leave the room.

As anticipated, Sara had to wait nearly five minutes for Maddie to step out in the hallway. She shook her head when she saw Sara.

"I'm sorry, Sara," she said. "I never thought that the defense would take so long with the cross. We'll have to have you back here tomorrow. I want your testimony."

"No problem," Sara said, trying to remember if she had any cases that she would need to be at the lab for the next day.

"Don't give me that," Maddie said, her expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. "I'm sure you're missing plenty of work for this."

"This _is_ work," Sara said simply. "It's not a problem. I'll be here. Grissom won't mind."

"Well, tell him thanks for me," Maddie said. "I usually have to fight with the other supervisors to get their CSIs for more than one day in court. Gil's always great about it."

Sara smiled. "He's a good boss."

"He's a good guy," Maddie added. "All right, I don't want to keep you any longer than I already have. Enjoy the rest of your day."

"Thanks," Sara said, picking up her bag. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll call you to the stand first thing," Maddie promised. "We need to get you out of here early for a change."

"Thanks," Sara said, grinning. "See you then."

"Bye."

Sara turned to walk down the hallway and out of the building. She was practically bouncing by the time she reached her car. The long day of doing nothing in court was forgotten, pushed aside by the giddy anticipation of the evening that awaited her.

She and Grissom were both off that night; they had agreed to have a "slumber party," as Sara teasingly termed it, at his house. The next morning, they would get up early to visit seven houses that their realtor had proclaimed to be "just perfect." She had told Grissom that she wasn't sure how he and Sara would decide between them. Sara just hoped that there would be one they could agree upon.

"Hey, Judy," Sara said as she walked into the lab. "Is my shift still around?"

"Dr. Grissom and Ms. Willows just got back from PD," Judy replied. "They're both around somewhere."

"Great," Sara replied. "Thanks."

She turned the corner that would take her past both Grissom's and Catherine's offices and nearly ran into Catherine. They both stopped short of collision and laughed.

"Hey," Catherine said. "How was court?"

"Uneventful," Sara said. "They ran out of time for me. I have to go back tomorrow."

"Fun," Catherine said sarcastically.

"How was your day?"

"We solved a double homicide," she replied with a trace of pride in her voice.

Sara's eyes opened wide. "Are you serious?"

"Yup," Catherine said, grinning. She handed Sara the file she had been carrying. "Read 'em and weep."

Sara laughed. "Sounds like you guys had a lot more fun than I did today."

"Jealous?"

Sara laughed again. "Maybe a little."

Catherine looked at her watch. "I've got to go get Lindsey. After you're done with that, just toss it back on my desk. I'll deal with it tomorrow."

"You've got it."

"Thanks." Catherine started to walk past her, then turned around. "And, Sara?"

"Yeah?" Sara said, turning to face her.

"Go home. After a day in court, the last thing you need is for Grissom to see you here and find something for you to do."

Sara grinned. "Thanks, Cat."

Catherine grinned at her, then turned to walk away.

Smiling, Sara continued down the hall to Grissom's office. There were a few things she wouldn't mind doing for him …

He was sitting in a low chair in the corner of his office, reading. Sara walked in without knocking and stopped in front of him.

"I heard the guys solved a double murder," she said.

Grissom looked up and nodded. "Mm-hm," he confirmed.

"I spent the day sitting on a bench outside the courtroom," Sara continued. "They never got to me."

"That sucks," Grissom said, his eyes traveling down to his open book again.

Sara glanced at the cover, noting that he was reading Walden Pond. She smiled. "Feeling transcendental?"

"Hm?" Grissom asked, looking up at her in surprise.

"Thoreau?" Sara questioned with a smile. "I, uh, haven't read him since college."

"Me, neither," Grissom agreed. "It holds up." He glanced down at the page and began to read to her. "'I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion.'"

Sara smiled, thinking that that particular quote certainly summed up their house search. What one loved, the other disliked. Sharing space wasn't going to be easy for either of them – they both had been loners for a long time. She was sure they had both had their moments of regret, of wishing that they had chosen to remain alone on their pumpkins.

Her gaze fell on his clipboard with the day's half-finished crossword puzzle on it. "Oh, look," she said, picking it up, "you missed one. Sixty-three down – _misanthrope_."

The accusation in her voice wasn't lost on Grissom, who looked up with a bit of alarm in his eyes. He remained silent, trying to see if she was teasing him or not.

Sara looked him up and down, a smile tugging at her lips. "I won't wait up."

Grissom stared after her as she walked out of his office. He closed his book and put it down on the nearest shelf. Her not-so-gentle reminder of their evening plans – and, perhaps more importantly, of their plans for the next day – was enough to propel him out of his chair.

By the time he had gathered everything he needed to take home – including Walden Pond – Sara had already left. Knowing where he'd find her, he headed home.

* * *

When he arrived at his townhouse, Sara was in the bedroom. She had taken off her suit jacket, but still wore the silky blouse and skirt. When he walked into the room, she was standing with her back to the door, scooping her curls up into a ponytail.

Grissom came up behind her and gently kissed the exposed nape of her neck. "A misanthrope, am I?"

Sara giggled and leaned back against him, letting her hair fall from her hands. "You just told me you'd rather be all alone than with others, regardless of the richness of the surroundings. I'd say that qualifies you as a misanthrope."

Grissom's arms snaked around her, his fingers playing across the silk that covered her stomach. "Maybe that wasn't how I meant it."

"Oh, really?" Sara turned around in his arms so that she could look at him, her hands automatically encircling his neck. "What exactly did you mean, then?"

"That quote refers to not wanting to share," he said. "While it does imply not wanting to share space, I used it to mean that I don't want to share something else."

"What is it that you don't want to share?" Sara prodded.

Grissom leaned closer until his lips hovered above hers. "You," he whispered.

"Me?" Sara asked, leaning back before he could kiss her. She frowned. "You don't have to share me. Believe me, sweetheart, I'm a one man kind of woman."

Grissom's fingers gently caressed her cheek, then slid up into her hair. "I know. And, it makes me so happy to know that you're mine."

Sara smiled and slid her hand down from his neck, letting it rest over his heart. "I always will be."

Grissom looked into her eyes for a long moment, then tipped his head to kiss her. This time, Sara didn't lean away.

* * *

Sara and Grissom found it difficult to pull themselves from bed the next morning. But, after hitting the snooze button for the third time, Grissom finally managed the awesome feat. Sara mumbled something incoherent and rolled over as he climbed out of bed. Grissom smiled and leaned over, brushing a kiss against her temple.

"We have to get up, love," he said softly.

"Don't wanna," Sara mumbled, burrowing her head deeper into her pillow.

"Nancy is waiting," he reminded her.

"Nancy can bite me."

Grissom laughed. "Come on, Sara. We have more houses to see."

Sara finally conceded defeat and rolled over onto her back. She glared up at him. "You could have let me sleep longer," she said. "You still need to take a shower. You could have woken me up when you were done with the bathroom."

"True," Grissom agreed. "But, if I had, we wouldn't have been able to shower together."

Sara's glare morphed into a slow smile. "You want to take a shower with me?"

"I thought that it might be a nice way to start the morning," Grissom replied, the naughty twinkle in his eyes belying his innocent tone. "But, if you'd rather stay in bed …"

Sara grinned and slid out of bed. "I think a shower sounds like a _much_ better idea."

"I thought you might."

* * *

Despite staying in bed a bit too late and spending longer than usual in the shower, Grissom and Sara met Nancy at their first house right on time. She gave them her usual cheerful smile as they got out of the car.

"Good morning!" she called as they walked up the driveway. "I think you're going to love the houses we're going to see today. I've taken everything you've said in the past month under consideration, and I think these are exactly what you're looking for. I hope that today will be the day you find your new home."

Grissom smiled at Sara, then looked back at Nancy. "So do we."

The first house did, indeed, have everything they had requested in the past. The floors were all either hardwood or tile, the kitchen was quite modern, the bathroom had a whirlpool tub … but, neither of them overly liked the house.

The second, too, had all the features they wanted, but was smaller than they would have liked.

The third was on a very busy street, which bothered both of them. Their nocturnal schedules required a quiet neighborhood that would allow for sleeping at odd times.

The fourth …

Was perfect.

The floors were all either hardwood or tile. The kitchen was less than a year old, and would have made many a professional chef weep with the beauty of its appliances. The master bath included a whirlpool tub and a huge couple shower. The living room boasted a working fireplace. Built-in shelves abounded, creating enough space to accommodate both their extensive book collections.

Sara fell in love from the moment they walked through the front door. Even before seeing the entire house, she felt an intense sense of _belonging_ that had been missing from the other houses they had seen.

Grissom, too, felt it. "This place is different, isn't it?" he said as he watched Sara run her hands over the granite countertops in the kitchen.

"It is," she agreed.

"It just … feels like _home_." Grissom knew the words were neither eloquent nor logical, but they summed up his feelings perfectly.

"I love this place," Sara said, twirling around to look at him with glowing eyes.

"Have we found it?" Grissom asked, a smile already spreading across his face.

"I think we've found it."

Grissom grinned and pulled her to him, gently kissing her. He broke the kiss and smiled.

"'Come live with me, and be my love, / And we will some new pleasures prove, / Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, / With silken lines, and silver hooks,'" he quoted. He smiled at her again. "Sara, will you live here with me?"

Sara gave him a beaming smile. "I would love to."

"Then, it's settled. We've found our new home."


	72. The Point of No Return

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving (one day late) to everyone in the US! I hope you're enjoying the holiday, and I'd like to thank you for waking up from your food coma to read my update.

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The Point of No Return_

Grissom read the letter one last time, signed his name at the bottom, folded it and slid it into the envelope. He addressed the envelope, licked it to seal it closed and affixed a stamp in the upper right corner.

He looked down at the envelope and smiled. It was done. The position was accepted. He would go to Williams in January.

And, strangely, he could hardly wait.

"Hey, Gil, Jim just called. We've got a triple in Henderson," Catherine said, hanging on his doorframe, obviously having just stopped her progress down the hall to talk to him. "You in?"

"Yeah," Grissom said at once, standing up. "Who else is coming?"

"I just called Nick and pulled him from his scene. He'll meet us there."

Grissom frowned. "He was working with Warrick, right?"

"Yeah, but they just had a single," Catherine said. "Warrick can handle it. Sara and Greg have a double, so I left them alone."

Grissom shook his head. "Busy night."

"And, it's only begun."

He smiled as he shrugged on his jacket. "You don't have to look so happy about murder, Catherine."

"Hey, at least the time will go quickly," she said. "Come on, let's go. I'll even let you drive."

"You're so good to me," Grissom said, picking up his kit.

Catherine gave him a smile and a wink. "And, don't you forget it."

Grissom grabbed the sealed letter from his desk just before leaving the office. As they passed the reception desk, he slid it to Judy.

"Could you put this in the outgoing mail, please?"

"Sure, Dr. Grissom," she replied, taking it from him.

"Thank you." Grissom turned back to Catherine. "What do we know so far?"

"Three vics; one female, two male," she began. "All in their mid- to late-thirties. Beyond that, nothing. Brass was working on IDs when I talked to him."

"Okay," Grissom replied. "Let's go see what we find."

* * *

Grissom, Catherine and Nick quickly found themselves deep in a mystery. Their victims were a married couple and a second man. Armed with that bit of information, Nick proposed a murder-suicide theory, suggesting that the wife had been cheating on her husband. Upon catching her with her lover, he had killed them both, then himself. It appeared to be a workable theory until Catherine dusted the only gun at the scene for prints and found none.

"He didn't kill himself then wipe the gun clean," she said. "Sorry, Nicky."

Nick shrugged. "Oh, well. One theory down, about a hundred to go."

"And a double shift to deal with them," Catherine said, glancing at her watch.

Grissom's eyes widened. "What time is it?" he asked.

"A quarter after ten," Catherine replied. "Why? You have a hot date?"

Grissom gave her a smile that was somewhere between amused and annoyed. "An appointment," he said. "I'll cancel it."

"Hey, Grissom, if you've got to go, go," Catherine said. "Nick and I will be fine without you."

"No, it's fine," he said. "I'll just reschedule."

Catherine shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Grissom stepped outside and back under the crime scene tape. He waited until he was safely in the Denali to open his phone and call Sara.

"Hi, lover," she said as she answered.

Grissom smiled, feeling the heat rush to his face. He was incredibly glad he had opted to make this call in private. "Hi," he replied.

Sara giggled. "You're still at work, aren't you?"

"How can you tell?"

"Every time I tease you when you're at work, your voice gets all tight like that," she said. "I have to admit, it's very sexy."

"Sara …"

"Okay, okay," she said, laughing again. "What's up?"

"I'm still in Henderson with Catherine and Nick at our triple," he said. "There's no way I'll make it back for our appointment with Nancy."

Sara sighed. "Okay. I'll call her and see if we can schedule a time to get our keys tomorrow."

"Make it for later today, if you can," Grissom said.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I won't stay past three, so anytime this evening will be fine."

"You're really, really sure?" Sara persisted. "If you need to work later, it's not a big deal. We can make an appointment for tomorrow."

"Sara, I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

"No, I know you wouldn't. Okay, I'll call her, then I'll text you with the new appointment time. Does that work?"

"That's great."

"Good. I'll see you later this evening, then."

"I'll call you when I leave the lab."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye, honey. Thanks."

Grissom closed his phone and sighed. Sara was being incredibly understanding. She always was about their job – she cancelled on him for work as much as he did her. But, he knew how important this meeting was. It was to sign the papers that would make the townhouse that they had taken to _calling_ theirs _officially_ theirs. He was sure that she wasn't happy to put it off, but it couldn't be avoided. For her understanding, he loved her.

He smiled. He was so lucky to have found someone like her.

* * *

"Gil, Sara, it has been wonderful working with you," Nancy said, giving them a bigger and brighter than usual smile. "I wish you all the luck in the world. Congratulations on your new house."

Sara could barely contain the shriek of joy that was bubbling up inside her as Nancy passed them the keys to their new house. She settled for a beaming smile and leaning over to hug Grissom tightly. He grinned back at her and held her to him for a long moment.

"We did it," Sara whispered. "We're homeowners!"

"Together," he whispered. He pulled back and looked into her shining eyes, thinking that he had never loved her more.

Sara held Grissom's eyes, trying to tell him how much she loved him without saying the words. She finally broke their eye contact and turned to Nancy.

"When can we move in?" she asked.

"Ownership is officially yours today," Nancy replied. "Move in whenever you'd like."

Sara looked back at Grissom with raised eyebrows and hopeful eyes. He smiled helplessly.

"Give me a few days to sort out the details," he said. "I didn't think we'd get to take ownership so quickly."

"You got lucky," Nancy said. "The owners had to sell quickly. They had been transferred to San Diego. They left three days after they put the house on the market."

"I couldn't do that," Sara said. "I need time to prepare!"

"Which is why I said we need a little time before we move," Grissom said. "Unless you've already packed everything at your place?"

"Some things," Sara said. She laughed. "And, I know you – you haven't packed anything at all, have you?"

"I have boxes," he said a bit defensively.

Sara laughed and put her hand on his knee. "We'll work on it."

Grissom covered her hand with his and gave her a warm smile. "I know."

Sara held his eyes for a moment before he broke the eye contact to look at Nancy.

"Is there anything else we need to sign?"

"No, we're done here," she said. "If there's anything else you need, questions you have, or any way I can help, please call me."

"We will," Grissom said, standing up and taking Sara's hand to pull her up with him. "Thank you."

"Thank you so much for all your help," Sara echoed.

"You're welcome," Nancy said, standing up to shake both their hands. "Like I said, it's been a pleasure working with you. I know you'll be happy in your new house, but I wish you only the best in your future."

Nancy walked them to the door. After saying their final goodbyes, Grissom and Sara made their way to his car, holding tightly to each other's hands.

When they reached the car, Grissom grabbed Sara in a hug and kissed her cheek. Sara laughed and hugged him back.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?" she asked, frowning.

"For being so wonderful," he said. "I know how much you wanted to do this yesterday, and I know how much it bothered you to wait until today. I'm just sorry that work got in the way."

Sara grinned and linked her hands behind his neck. "It's not _entirely_ your fault. We still could have come yesterday if Nancy had been available in the evening. Besides…aren't all the best things in life worth the wait?"

Grissom smiled at her and leaned down to kiss her briefly. "Come on. I think we need to go home and celebrate our new house."

Sara laughed. "It's just a shame we can't go celebrate there just yet."

Grissom lifted one eyebrow. "Didn't you just say that all the best things in life are worth the wait?"

"Yes."

"Well, honey, this will _definitely_ be worth the wait."

* * *

It was nearly a month before Grissom and Sara were ready to move. Both were struggling with intense caseloads, and Grissom found it nearly impossible to schedule them two days off simultaneously. Aside from not having the time to move, neither was truly ready to do so. By the time they found their way home from work at the end of the day, packing seemed to be a nearly impossible feat.

"I suppose we should be glad that your house hasn't sold yet," Sara said as she and Grissom spent an afternoon off packing up his kitchen. "We have time to spend on this."

"That's one way of looking at it," he said.

"Give me another," she challenged, giving him a smile.

"I was concentrating more on paying two mortgages."

"It's not _really_ two. It's more like one and a half," Sara replied.

"True," he agreed. "The other one is half yours."

She smiled. "Do you know how much I love sharing something like this with you?"

Grissom returned her smile with one of his own. "I have a pretty good idea."

Sara's phone rang, shattering the moment. Giving Grissom an apologetic smile, she picked it up.

"Hi, Warrick. … No, it's not a bad time. What's up? … Really? That's incredible! … Yeah, I'll be right there. … I can't believe he's turning himself in! You were right all along!" She laughed. "I know, I know. I'll never doubt you again. Promise."

Grissom shook his head. If Sara was leaving, his packing helper was gone, meaning it would take him at least twice as long to finish the job. Aside from the fact that she provided an extra set of hands, she tended to keep him on-task. Left to his own devices, he was sure he'd stray from the project.

He sighed. With the way they worked, they'd never be able to move.

* * *

Five weeks after their meeting to transfer ownership of their new home, Grissom and Sara were ready to move in. Grissom scheduled them both three days off together – a feat he managed only through the amazing amount of overtime Sara amassed during the preceding weeks. He found himself forced to give her extra time off, which he skillfully arranged to fall during his scheduled days off.

The night before they moved, Sara and Grissom opted to stay at their own places. Sara wanted one last night to say goodbye. Grissom needed one last night to finish packing.

Before going to bed, Sara walked though her apartment, smiling nostalgically. Not since moving from the apartment she had shared with Mary had she felt so sentimental about leaving a place. She supposed that it had a lot to do with the memories attached to it.

This apartment had been her first – and only – home in Las Vegas. It had been her first time getting a place entirely on her own in an entirely new, strange city. It had, in a lot of ways, provided her with an independence none of her previous apartments had.

She wandered through the living room and looked at the chair where she had sat and spilled her heart out to Grissom, telling him about her parents' relationship and her father's death. That chair would not come to their new house; they had agreed to keep Sara's couch and coffee table, but Grissom's armchair.

Sighing, she continued to the kitchen. Her dishes were packed into boxes, each labeled "Goodwill." Grissom's kitchen was far better stocked than Sara's; they would keep his things for their new home. His kitchen table and chairs would come, too. That, however, had not really required a decision; Sara didn't have dining space in her apartment beyond her breakfast bar, and didn't have a dinette set.

Her bedroom set would come along, but would furnish their guest bedroom. Grissom's king-size bed was bigger than her queen; the decision to keep it as their bed was easy. Sara wasn't all that upset over it; she had liked Grissom's bed better than hers since the first time she had slept in it.

Finally completing her final walk-through, Sara sat down on her bed. She grabbed her pillow and hugged it tightly for a long moment.

She was giving up a lot to move in with Grissom. The furniture and dishes didn't bother her. Most of her things were purchased out of necessity. She had never bought anything for her apartment thinking that it would last more than a few years. Sending them to charity wasn't a problem.

Aside from material possessions, she was giving up some of her freedom. She wouldn't have her private space to escape to when things became too much. She wouldn't have her quiet time alone whenever she needed it. Everything in her life would involve Grissom, and everything in his life would involve her.

Yet, despite all that she was giving up, she knew that she was gaining so much more. Sharing her life with him was everything to her. They had made the right decision.

Smiling, she collapsed back onto the bed. She needed to sleep before beginning their adventure.

* * *

Moving day was like nothing Sara had ever experienced. She had moved plenty of times in her life, but it had always involved a friend with a pick-up truck, a U-Haul, and a group of friends-turned-movers who were willing to work for pizza and beer.

This time, Grissom insisted on hiring professional movers. They arrived at Sara's apartment promptly at eight in the morning, and began loading her possessions onto their truck. Sara did her best to stay out of their way, hoping that nothing would be broken in the moving process.

Finally, everything was loaded onto the truck. Sara walked through the empty, still apartment one last time. She had loved it since she had moved in, but this bare shell was no longer _home_.

Smiling, she closed the door on her apartment, and on that chapter of her life. It was time to begin the next.

* * *

Grissom and his moving van had arrived at their new house ahead of Sara and hers, which was no surprise – his old place was closer to their new house than hers was. He grinned as he saw her climbing out of her car.

"Good morning," he called, crossing to meet her.

"Good morning," she replied. She took in the dark shadows under his eyes and giggled. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"I had a bit of packing to finish," he said evasively.

Sara giggled again. "That would be a no."

Grissom shook his head and changed the direction of the conversation. "Did everything go okay with the movers?"

"So far," Sara said. She smiled and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "So, this is it, huh? We're _home_."

Grissom raised their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of hers. "We're home."

* * *

The day passed in a whirlwind of activity. The movers were quite efficient; by evening, they were gone. Grissom and Sara were left alone in their new home with a sea of boxes and furniture.

"Where do we begin?" Sara asked as they stood in the doorway together, both feeling rather overwhelmed.

Grissom glanced at her and smiled. "I have an idea."

"Good, because right now, I ­–"

Sara's statement was cut off by her own shriek as Grissom lifted her into his arms. He laughed as she threw her arms around his neck.

"It's our first home together," he said. "I have to carry you over the threshold."

Sara grinned as he stepped into the house with her in his arms, kicking the door closed behind him. Sara kissed him when he stopped in the foyer, tightening her grip on him ever so slightly.

Grissom broke the kiss and smiled at her, then set her back on her feet. "Welcome home, love."


	73. Domestic Bliss

A/N: Well, Thanksgiving means a long weekend, and, as you can see, I spent it writing. I won't be able to update again until next weekend, so I hope you enjoy being spoiled while you can. :-)

Just to clarify, this chapter picks up exactly where the last one left off. It probably should have been part of the last chapter, but I liked where that one ended. And, if I'm being honest, this wasn't supposed to get its own chapter. Blame Grissom and Sara. They demanded another fluffy, GSR-centric chapter. They (and you) are hereby warned, though: The next one will be more case-driven and angsty.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Enjoy!

Grissom quotes Hermann Hesse in this chapter.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Domestic Bliss_

"Okay, we need to prioritize," Grissom said after disentangling himself from Sara. "I think there are two rooms that we need to at least partially unpack immediately."

"Which are?" Sara asked.

"The bedroom and the kitchen. We'll need to sleep and eat before anything else."

"Mmm," Sara said, running her hands up Grissom's torso. "I'm sure there are other reasons we'll need the bedroom, too."

Grissom smiled and captured her wandering hands in his. "Yes, dear, I agree. But, for now, we need to focus."

Sara laughed. "I never thought you'd be the one telling me to focus when it comes to packing – or, in this case, unpacking. It's usually the other way around."

Grissom gave her a half-smile. "Sometimes, I can surprise you."

"You surprise me most days," she replied. She touched his cheek. "Okay. Let's get to work. Which room first?"

"Bedroom."

Sara grinned, and Grissom laughed at the gleam in her eye.

"We need to _make_ the bed, Sara, not _un_make it." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "For now."

Giggling, Sara took his hand to lead him down the stairs to their new bedroom. They paused in the doorway, staring at the boxes and furniture that were haphazardly placed in the room.

"Well, this doesn't look the way it should," Sara said. "We're going to need to move this furniture."

"Agreed," Grissom said. "Where do you want the bed?"

"Over there, I think."

Grissom nodded his approval. "We'll need to move those boxes first."

"Yeah."

After several attempts, they managed to arrange the furniture the way they wanted it. They searched through the boxes that had been moved and moved again to accommodate the new furniture arrangements, finally locating the bedding, and made the bed together. Sara looked around at the other boxes and shook her head.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but what do you think about leaving the rest of this for tomorrow? I'm already exhausted and we haven't even started on the kitchen yet."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "And, what do you say to ordering a pizza? I'm starving, and I know it's going to be awhile before we're ready to cook anything."

"Good idea," Sara said. "Let me find my phone … Who even delivers here?"

"I'll find out," Grissom said, heading for their home office, where he had placed his laptop bag.

By the time Sara had found her phone, Grissom had connected to the internet and was searching for the numbers of the pizza places that would deliver to their new address.

"Green peppers and mushrooms?" Sara asked as she walked into the office.

"Sounds fine," Grissom agreed. "We have about fifteen places that will deliver here."

"_Fifteen_?"

"I might be exaggerating," Grissom said with a grin. "But, there are quite a few. What's your preference?"

"Whatever sounds the most mom and pop-ish," Sara replied.

Grissom searched through the list and chose a restaurant that sounded like it was family run. "Okay, I think I've got it. Ready?"

"Ready."

Grissom rattled off the number. Sara dialed, and placed their order.

"Thirty to forty-five minutes," she said, closing her phone. "Should we get started on the kitchen?"

"Yeah," Grissom said. "We're going to need plates to eat the pizza."

They found the boxes full of dishes easily enough. Deciding where to keep them in the kitchen, however, proved to be a bit more challenging. After a friendly argument about the most convenient place, they finally chose a cabinet and began unpacking the dishes and bowls.

They were just finishing the task when the doorbell rang. Grissom, who was closer to the stairs, started for the door.

"Just so you know, if it takes this long to unpack every box in this kitchen, we won't be officially moved in until 2008," Sara said as he walked up the steps.

"Yes, dear, I know," Grissom said, waving his hand to acknowledge her statement. He opened the door. "Hi."

Sara smiled and took two plates out of their newly organized cupboard.

"Want to eat up here?" Grissom called as he closed the door on the delivery man. "We can actually sit on the couch."

Sara looked at the table and chairs, noting that they were covered in boxes and packing materials. "Yeah, good idea."

Grabbing the plates and a handful of napkins, she joined him in the living room. Grissom was already opening the pizza box on top of another box that served as a table. Sara held the plates while he served them each a slice. Once they both had pizza, he opened a cooler and took out two cans of soda.

"Shall we toast?"

Sara giggled and popped open her can. "Please," she said, trying to maintain a straight face.

Grissom raised his own open soda can. "To our new house – and, to our new life together." He smiled. "To our future, and all the adventures it will bring. To all the mountains that we'll climb together …" His face flushed slightly, and he continued in a softer tone, "And to all the joy and happiness we'll share."

Sara's eyes glowed as they each took a sip of their drinks. Once the cans had been put aside, she leaned forward to kiss Grissom, tasting the cola on his lips.

"I love you," she whispered.

Grissom took her face between his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. "'If I know what love is, it is because of you,'" he quoted softly.

Sara's eyes filled with tears as he gently kissed her again.

* * *

When Sara woke up the next morning, the first thing she saw was her alarm clock's precarious position on a box. She quickly reached out to move it to safety, only vaguely remembering smacking it with her arm the night before. She had been a bit … occupied, and had not realized what she had hit.

"Good morning."

Sara turned her head the other way, and smiled up into Grissom's twinkling blue eyes. "Good morning," she replied. "How long have you been awake?"

"A little while," he said.

"Have you been watching me sleep the whole time?" she asked. "Because, if we're going to be honest, that's a little disturbing."

Grissom chuckled. "No. I spent most of my time trying to decide if I really like the dresser over there."

"Oh," Sara said, propping herself up on one elbow to get a better look. "I suppose we can move it. It's not like we've put anything in it yet. It won't be heavy."

Grissom smiled and kissed her cheek. "Later. Right now, I have plans for us."

"Oh, really?" Sara asked, grabbing his hand. "What might those be?"

"We're going to make breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Sara repeated. "Okay. To the kitchen."

Grissom got out of bed and waited until she was standing. "Come on," he said, stretching out his hand to her.

Sara smiled, a bit mystified. "You're like a little kid at Christmas. This isn't all _that_ big. We've made breakfast together before."

"I know. But, this is the first time in our new house. And, I want to teach you how to make something."

His excitement was infectious, but Sara's was tempered with caution. "Um, Griss, you know who you're talking to, right? I mean, we both know that my culinary skills are far below yours."

Grissom smiled as they reached the kitchen. "Your problem is not lack of _skill_, my dear, it's lack of experience. And, we're going to start rectifying that. Today, I am going to teach you how to make my mother's French toast."

Sara's eyes grew to the size of saucers. Grissom's French toast literally melted in her mouth. He had made it for her for their one-year anniversary. "Really? You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"But … you only made it for me that one time. And, you wouldn't even let me in the kitchen until it was done! What happened to it being a closely-guarded family recipe?"

Grissom, who was washing his hands at the sink, turned to smile at her a bit shyly. "You're family, Sara."

Sara felt her cheeks grow warm as a beaming smile spread across her face.

"Come on. Wash your hands so we can get started."

"Okay."

Giving Grissom a saucy smile, Sara took her time washing her hands, paying special attention to each finger as though she were a surgeon. Finally, she turned to face him again.

"I'm ready, Chef Grissom. Teach me."

He smiled patiently, and took a bowl from the cabinet. "Get out the eggs, please."

"Yes, sir."

They began playfully, but it was only a matter of moments before Grissom turned serious. He was almost businesslike as he directed Sara to measure ingredients, but his passion for what he was doing shone through. He loved to cook, and he was, without even trying, sharing that love with Sara.

Even Sara had to admit that she was shocked by how easy it was to follow the complex recipe. When they were done, and had two plates of beautiful French toast, she looked at Grissom with a beaming smile.

"This was fun," she said.

He grinned. "The real fun begins now – we get to eat it."

Sara laughed. "You can't fool me. The preparation was the fun part for you. Eating is just the icing on the cake – or, the powdered sugar on the French toast, if you will."

Grissom smiled and rolled his eyes. "That was terrible."

"But, you loved it."

"Maybe … a little."

Sara giggled. "Thank you, Gil, for teaching me to do this."

He smiled and covered her hand with his. "I'm glad I can share it with you."

Sara smiled back, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Here," he said, breaking the moment, "try a bite."

Sara obediently bit the offered piece of toast from his fork. As soon as it hit her tongue, she closed her eyes.

"Good?" Grissom asked.

"It's what heaven should be," Sara said as she swallowed. "Here, you try."

They ate quietly for a few moments, each lost in his or her own thoughts. It was Grissom who broke the silence.

"So, I was thinking about what we should do with the rest of the day," he said.

Sara smirked. "I've got a pretty good idea," she said. "It involves boxes."

"Well, that, too," Grissom agreed. "But, first, I thought it was time that our other family member had a chance to see his new home."

Sara's eyes widened. "You want to go pick up Hank?"

"I think that Karen has suffered with him long enough."

"She loves him – and he loves her," Sara said. "But … you're sure? He won't freak out with all the chaos?"

"I think he'll be fine. Besides, I miss him. It just doesn't seem right without him around," Grissom said. "What do you say? Should we go get him after breakfast?"

Sara nodded. "I can't wait!"

* * *

Hank was every bit as excited to see them as they were to get him. He jumped around them as Grissom listened to Karen explain how his time with her had gone. Sara didn't pay much attention to the dog sitter's commentary. She was occupied with watching Hank's antics.

"Okay," Grissom said at last. "Are you ready to see the new house, Hank?"

Hank barked in reply, and Sara giggled.

"I think that was a 'yes.'"

"I think so, too," Grissom said. "Thank you, Karen."

"No problem, Dr. Grissom," she replied. She bent down to scratch Hank's head. "I'll see you next time, buddy. Be good for Daddy."

Grissom rolled his eyes and Sara grinned.

"Come on," Grissom said. "To the car."

Hank barked again, and ran ahead of them to the car. Sara opened the door, and he jumped into the backseat.

"Looks like someone's excited to see his new house," she commented.

"Maybe he's excited that now he'll get to live with his mommy," Grissom said.

Sara raised her eyebrows.

"Hey, if I have to be his daddy, you have to be his mommy."

Sara laughed. "I like it. Actually, it's perfect."

Grissom shook his head and climbed into the car. Still laughing, Sara climbed in on the opposite side.

"I feel like the luckiest mommy ever," she said.

"Oh?" Grissom asked, turning to her with raised eyebrows.

Sara nodded. "I get to live with my two favorite boys."

Grissom gave her a half-smile. "I'm not sure I like being put on level with a dog."

"Well, Hank is my favorite dog," Sara clarified. "You, my love, are my favorite man."

Grissom smiled. "I guess I can live with that."

"Good." Sara leaned across to kiss his cheek. "Because, really, you have no choice."

Grissom laughed and put the car in reverse. "Okay, guys. Let's go home."

* * *

All too soon, their days off came to an end. Before they were truly ready, Grissom and Sara found themselves leaving for work.

"Well, at least the kitchen is unpacked," Sara said as they walked out of the house.

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "We have an entire house, but _one room_ is unpacked."

"We'll get the rest of it," Sara said. "It's just going to take some time."

"Unfortunately, time is the one thing we won't have much of," Grissom said. "Think of how long it took us to pack everything to move here."

"We'll get it," Sara said again. "I'm not worried. We have all the time in the world."

Grissom smiled. "I guess you're right. What's a few boxes?"

"Exactly." Sara hugged him tightly as they reached their cars. "We have a house together, Gil! What do we have to be upset about?"

He smiled and hugged her just as tightly. "Thank God for you, Sara. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "I don't know what you'd do without me, either. I'll see you at work."

Grissom kissed her again. "See you there."


	74. The Happiest Time

A/N: I know I said we had a case-driven, angst-riddled chapter coming up, but I think the Christmas season changed my mind. How could I skip over Sara's new favorite holiday? This chapter was such fun to write! I hope you like it (even if it is a bit later than anticipated).

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The Happiest Time_

"Okay, baby, I've got to go to work," Sara said softly, grabbing the sides of his face and shaking his head slightly. "I'll see you in the morning."

Hank licked her hand and she giggled.

"You be a good boy while I'm gone. I'll bring Daddy home with me."

Hank licked her hand again as she released him and straightened up.

After pausing to wash her dog slobber-covered hands, Sara picked up her bag and walked out the front door. She was leaving for work alone; Grissom had been called in early to a scene involving a dead body and a lot of insect activity.

"Hi!"

Sara's head snapped around at the cheerful greeting. She smiled at her neighbor, who was walking up to her front door.

"Hi," she replied.

The woman changed course and crossed to shake Sara's hand. "I'm Kelly Parker," she said. "I'm so sorry I haven't been over to introduce myself yet. You must think I'm a terrible neighbor. I wanted to give you some time to settle in first, then Tim – my husband – and I got busy getting ready for the holidays, and … well …" She shrugged. "I'm sorry."

Sara smiled. "It's fine. I think I can speak for both of us when I say we're not offended. I'm Sara Sidle."

"Sara," Kelly repeated. "It's great to finally meet you. I have to say, I knew you two moved in because I saw the movers, but I don't think I've seen you since. I feel like you're never home!"

Sara laughed. "Gil and I work the night shift – and that often becomes the day shift –, so we keep strange hours."

"Gil is your husband?"

"We're not married," Sara corrected. "But, yeah, Gil is my boyfriend."

"Oh," Kelly said. "And you work together, too, or you just have the same hours?"

"No, we work together. We're in law enforcement." Sara often found that it was easier to be vague when explaining her job to those who didn't truly understand what she did.

"Oh, that's great," Kelly said. "My dad was a cop. He worked in Philly for almost forty years. He finally retired two years ago. My mom was thrilled at first – now she says it's harder to entertain him at home all day than it was to worry if he'd come home at the end of the day." She shook her head. "You're brave people, and, believe me, I really appreciate what you do."

Sara smiled. "Thanks."

"Well," Kelly said, hoisting the bags she was carrying, "I'd better get this inside. I promised my daughter we could make Christmas cookies tomorrow, which meant a trip to the store tonight."

"How old is your daughter?" Sara asked.

"She's three," Kelly replied. "Lauren. She's in bed, or I'd bring her out to meet you."

"We'll have to find a time," Sara agreed. "I'm sure she'd like to meet my dog – and, I _know_ he'd like to meet her."

Kelly grinned. "Definitely. Well, it was nice meeting you, Sara."

"You, too," Sara agreed. "Have fun baking tomorrow."

"And you have fun at work," she replied. "Stay safe."

"I will."

Kelly smiled and waved as she returned to her own walkway. Sara watched her go, noting the wreath that was hanging on her door.

Kelly seemed nice and like she would make a good neighbor, but that wasn't the thought that ran through Sara's mind as she climbed into her car.

All she was thinking was that she and Grissom were far from prepared for Christmas. And, for the first time in her memory, she _wanted_ to be prepared.

For the first time, she was excited about Christmas.

* * *

"Hey," Sara said, walking into Grissom's office and shutting the door behind her. "We need to talk."

Grissom looked up, concern reflected in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, exactly," Sara said, sitting down across from him. "I met our next door neighbor as I was leaving."

"Oh. Why is that somewhat a problem? Are we living next door to serial killers?"

"No, she was really nice. Her name is Kelly Parker. Her husband is Tim and they have a three-year-old named Lauren. I think she'll be a good playmate for Hank."

"Agreed."

"The potential problem is that she reminded me of how close Christmas is. We, my dear, are far from ready for the holidays."

Grissom looked at the calendar on his desk, his eyes widening. "We need a tree. Soon."

"I know. When are we both free again?"

"Do your best to get done on time today," he said. "I'll do the same. We can get one in the afternoon."

"Perfect."

* * *

Grissom and Sara both managed to leave on time, which was no small feat. Sara and Greg had hit the point in their case that they could leave without problems, but Grissom had to work to convince Warrick that they could call it a day.

"He wanted to stay later?" Sara asked as they walked to their cars. She frowned. "Doesn't he have a wife to go home to?"

"Tina left the hospital and went into private practice," Grissom said. "Apparently, she now works nine to five – which gives Warrick less motivation to get home early."

"Huh," Sara said. She gave him a seductive smile. "I'm glad I don't have that problem. My boyfriend and I still work the same hours."

Grissom smiled back. "You're very lucky."

"I am," Sara agreed. "He even promised me that we could go get a Christmas tree today."

Grissom looked at her with a wide, surprised smile. "You're excited about this."

"I am," Sara said, smiling happily. "I can't believe how excited I am about this."

"I'm glad," Grissom said.

"You know what I'm most excited about?" Sara asked.

Grissom shook his head.

"That I get to share it with you."

Grissom gave her a warm look that told her exactly what he'd do to her if they weren't at work. Sara smiled back and opened her car door.

"I'll see you at home," she said, her voice a bit husky.

Grissom nodded, suddenly finding himself incapable of speech.

* * *

That afternoon, as promised, they went out to get their tree. Remembering how long it had taken them to find a tree – and, therefore, how much time they had spent out in the cold – the year before, Sara dressed warmly. Grissom smiled as he watched her winding a scarf around her neck.

"What?" she asked.

"I was just thinking that I've never seen you wear a scarf because it's actually _cold_," he said. He gave her a wicked grin. "Usually, I help you get to the point of needing to wear them."

Sara grinned back. "Are you suggesting that you want to delay our Christmas tree search again for some extra curricular activities?"

"I think we've done that enough," Grissom said. "I'm cutting us off until we have a tree."

"Wow," Sara said, taking his offered hand as they walked out the front door. "I never thought you'd be one to cut off sex."

Grissom laughed. "When it comes to Christmas, we have to show some self-control."

"All right," Sara agreed. "But, just so you know, this celibacy thing will only last so long."

"Oh, believe me, I was quite serious when I said this was only until we have a tree."

"Good," Sara said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Because, I find you far too irresistible to make it last much longer than that."

"Come on, you," Grissom said, opening the passenger door of his car. "Enough of your seduction techniques. Get in that car!"

Laughing, Sara did as he asked and sat down.

* * *

As Sara had expected, they returned to the same Christmas tree vendor they had visited last year. A very bundled up man met them as they walked toward the trees.

"Hi, folks," he said. "Looking for a tree?"

Sara wanted to roll her eyes. Why else would they be there?

"Yes," Grissom answered. "Do you have any blue spruce?"

"Over on that side," the man replied, pointing to their left. "It's been a popular choice this year, but there are still plenty left."

"Good," Grissom said. "We'll start there."

"When you find one, give a holler."

"We will." Grissom took Sara's gloved hand. "Let's go."

She nodded to the tree vendor and let Grissom lead her to the blue spruce section. She frowned slightly.

"I don't remember you requesting a specific type of tree last year," she said.

"I didn't want to intimidate you with it," he said. "They're my favorite trees – probably because they were my dad's favorite, so that's what we always had when I was little. You actually picked a blue spruce last year, so I figured we'd just start there this time around."

Sara squeezed his hand. "Thank you."

"For what?" Grissom asked, frowning slightly.

"For making this special for me."

He smiled and raised their joined hands to kiss hers. "Thank _you_ for making it special for _me_."

Sara gave him a glowing smile. "Come on. Let's find our tree."

"Okay," Grissom said, turning from serious to playful. "But, first, let's review the rules to make sure you remember how this is done."

Sara giggled. "We're looking for a tree that's full but not _too_ full, with only one hole in its branches," she recited. "And, it can only be a foot taller than you … wait, we're in a new house this year. Has that rule changed?"

"Let's stick with it for now," Grissom said. "If we think it looks too short, we'll get a taller tree next year."

"Okay." Sara cleared her throat. "The trunk must be straight, or the tree will fall over. Have I missed anything?"

"No, I think you've done a very good job of remembering," Grissom said. He stopped walking as they reached the blue spruce. "See any candidates?"

Sara began to look around. "Maybe over there …"

They separated briefly as they went down different aisles, searching for the perfect tree. Sara contemplated and dismissed several. She was at the point of starting down a new row when she heard Grissom calling her. Changing directions to follow the sound of his voice, she found him standing in front of a gorgeous tree.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Sara grinned. "I love it. It's perfect."

Grissom pulled her to him and pressed a kiss against her temple. "This is going to be the best Christmas."

* * *

As Sara remembered from the year before, choosing the tree was the easy part. Getting it into the house and upright in its stand was far more challenging. Aside from dealing with a very excited dog who wanted to be part of the process, they spent quite a bit of time tripping over boxes that they had yet to unpack as they tried to slide the tree into the corner of the living room they had chosen for it.

"Seriously," Sara said as they finally secured the tree, "we have to unpack these books! We have more shelves in this house than a library. I _know_ we can find space for them."

"We will," Grissom said. "But, first, we need to decorate this tree."

Sara grinned. "That's the fun part. Where are the decorations?"

"I think they're in the hallway," Grissom said.

Sara gave him a look of disbelief. "The hallway? That's where we're storing them?"

"No," Grissom replied, already on his way to retrieve the boxes, "that's as far as they've made it."

Sara shook her head. "By the time we're actually moved into this house, I won't be able to walk up the stairs anymore. This is getting ridiculous!"

"I know, honey." He reentered the room carrying two boxes stacked one on top of the other. "But, the problem is, we work too much. We just need enough time off to devote to unpacking."

Sara rolled her eyes. "You make the schedule, dear. You could fix that."

"Not without drawing suspicion. I think that my new address and your new PO Box showing up on HR's files the same month would be enough to cause suspicion if Ecklie were to look into our records. We don't need to do anything to raise more flags."

"Okay, fine. I don't want to argue about boxes or schedules right now. Let's just decorate the tree."

Grissom smiled and opened the first box. "Let's do that."

* * *

By the time Sara had to leave for work, the tree was trimmed. She and Grissom stood back and admired their work with identical smiles.

"It's beautiful," Sara said. "I wish I could stay here with you and stare at it all night."

"Call off," he suggested. "We could spend the night here together." He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her to his side. "We could curl up on the couch with hot chocolate and listen to Handel's _Messiah_ as we stare at our tree."

Sara smiled, but shook her head. "You know I wouldn't do that. And, I don't think you really want me to. You're already off, and Nick had a nasty cold yesterday. If he's feeling worse, I'm sure he'll call off tonight. I need to go in."

"If Nick does call off, tell Catherine to call me. I'll come in to cover for him."

Sara raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, you're right. I'll call Cath and let her know," Grissom said.

Sara smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "I need to go."

"I know." Grissom turned them toward each other so he could kiss her lips. "Have a nice night."

"I will." She kissed him again. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too." Another kiss.

Sara gently pulled herself from his arms and touched his cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

When Sara arrived home the next morning, Grissom was in the kitchen, making breakfast. She smiled at the sight of him in his white apron as he flipped pancakes.

"Good morning," she said as she walked down the steps.

"Good morning," he replied, turning to kiss her. "How was work?"

"Greg and I wrapped our case," she said. "He was right, too. And, for once, he didn't gloat. I owe him dinner, but that's all part of the fun."

"You owe him dinner?" Grissom asked.

Sara giggled. "I thought for sure that the neighbor had killed this guy, but Greg insisted that it was his brother-in-law. We were both so certain that we put dinner on the line. Greg picked the winning horse this time. So, the next time you pair us up or we have a day off together, I've got to buy him dinner."

Grissom smiled. "Sounds like you two had fun."

"We always have fun."

"I know."

Sara glanced around the kitchen and noted that he had nearly finished cooking. "Do you want me to set the table?"

"It's already set."

Surprised, Sara looked in to see that the table was, indeed, set. She also noticed a wrapped present sitting next to her plate.

"What's this?" she asked, crossing to pick it up.

"An early Christmas present," Grissom said.

Sara looked at him in confusion. "Gil, you didn't have to do that."

"I know," he said, bringing a plate of pancakes to put on the table. "It's really for both of us, but you can do the honors. Open it."

Smiling in a mystified sort of way, Sara ripped the paper off the plain white box. She opened it and gasped. She lifted out the silver ornament in the shape of a Christmas tree and held it up to admire it.

"Gil, it's beautiful," she said. "Where did you find it?"

"Christmas store," he replied. "Read it."

Sara turned the ornament in her hand until she found the inscription on the back. _2006 Our first Christmas together_

"What about last year?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Last year doesn't count. This is our first _real_ Christmas together. We're in our new house and ..." He took her hand and kissed it. "Don't you feel how much different this Christmas is than last?"

Sara nodded, suddenly realizing that she wasn't holding a simple Christmas tree ornament. She was holding a tangible symbol of their relationship and how much it meant to him – how much _she_ meant to him. Grissom was telling her he loved her without saying a word.

Knowing that she'd never get any words past the lump in her throat, she leaned forward to press her lips against his. Grissom held her tightly, knowing that she understood.

"Should we put it on the tree?" he asked.

Sara nodded. Together, they went to the living room and stood in front of the tree. Grissom turned on the glittering lights.

"Where?" Sara finally managed to ask.

Grissom studied the tree for a moment. "How about … here?"

Sara nodded and gave him the ornament, allowing him to put it in a central place in the front of the tree. Once it was safely dangling from its branch, she pulled Grissom into another kiss.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for the ornament, and thank you for show me how magical this can be. I always hated Christmas, until last year. And, Gil, that's all because of you and what you've done for me." Tears filled her eyes. "Thank you for giving me Christmas."

Grissom looked deeply into her eyes. "Thank you for giving me someone to give Christmas to."

Their lips found each other again, and they slowly lowered themselves to the floor. Sara pulled back from the kiss to smile at him.

"Should we engage in another of our Christmas traditions?"

Grissom kissed her again. It was all the encouragement she needed.

It had taken them a long time to get to the point of sharing and creating traditions together, but they were both sure that it had been worth the wait. Neither had ever had such a merry Christmas.


	75. Confessions

A/N: I realize this is over due, but it is the holidays! I've been busy with real life. But, I'm off for the next week, so I should have plenty of time for more frequent updates.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and happy holidays to everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some dialogue and inspiration are borrowed from episode 710, "Loco Motives."

* * *

_Confessions_

As Greg pointed out, it was a busy night.

After starting on one case with Catherine and sending Nick and Warrick on another, Grissom received a third call. Sara was in a meeting with the DA about an upcoming court date, which meant that Greg would accompany him to the scene.

Truthfully, he probably would have taken Greg even if Sara had been sitting at the lab with nothing to do. He had a feeling that she'd rather not work a homicide in a poultry processing plant.

Their victim, a man who did janitorial work for Mannleigh Chickens overnight, had been found dead, facedown in a bath used to stun the chickens with an electric current before they went on to their final end. The foreman explained that the practice was humane – after being stunned, having their throats cut wouldn't hurt the chickens. Grissom felt slightly nauseous – and had a sudden understanding of why Sara had become a vegetarian. Judging by the looks on Greg's and Brass's faces, they were having similar reactions.

Brass took the foreman outside, where all the employees had gathered, to continue questioning both him and his workers. Left alone with his boss, Greg began offering theories.

"Maybe he was high," he suggested. He mimicked swaying toward the bath. "Passes out … falls in."

"How does he end up in the middle of the bath?" Grissom asked.

"Kinda tough to drown in three inches of water," Greg said, realizing the problems with his theory.

"Not impossible, though," Grissom said. "If he hit the water when the current was on, his muscles could have contracted, making it impossible for him to get out."

"But, the machine's off at night," Greg said. "And, it was off when they found the body. Which means, someone turned it off after he was dead."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "Who?"

Greg smiled. "If the dead guy could tell us that, we'd be out of a job."

Grissom nodded his agreement with the truth in Greg's words. "You take this side. I'll head the other way."

"You've got it."

Greg found a used condom, which they later used to corroborate what one of the workers told Brass about their victim and the owner's wife and the affair they had been having. While Greg was disgusted at the thought of having sex in a poultry processing plant, Grissom excused it as yet another fetish. He left Greg to the task of bagging his evidence; his attention had been captured by something in the nearby sink.

He crossed the room slowly and looked down at what appeared to be a large box. The detailing on the top was familiar … he looked up at the ceiling, noting that it matched the detailing. Everything fell into place.

"You got something?" Greg asked.

"Yeah," Grissom said. He lifted the top to reveal the miniature version of their crime scene. "One more chance."

"One more chance?" Greg repeated, standing up to join him. "What are you … Oh, no way! Another one?"

"Yeah," Grissom said. "Maybe this time …" He looked down at the miniature, then around the room. "I need to get this back to the lab. Will you be okay on your own here for now? I'll try to send someone from day shift to back you up. They should be in by now."

"Yeah, sure," Greg said. "If there's no one, it's okay. I can handle it."

Grissom smiled. "Don't try to be Superman, Greg."

"I know."

"Okay. Snap a few pictures of this for me, would you?"

"Sure."

Grissom stepped aside while Greg photo documented the miniature. Once Greg was done, Grissom sealed it into an evidence bag.

"If you need me, call," Grissom said. "I'll be at the lab."

"Got it," Greg agreed.

"And, let Brass know what's happened," Grissom said. "I'll never find him in that sea of people out there."

"No problem."

"And, Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Greg smiled. "You're welcome."

Giving him a parting nod, Grissom carried his new prize to his SUV. It was time to _really_ get to work.

* * *

Sara's phone began to vibrate just as she walked out of her meeting with the DA. She picked it up and read Greg's name across the screen.

"Hi," she said as she answered the call.

"You're never going to guess what happened!"

Sara laughed. "Then, save me the trouble of guessing and just tell me."

"Grissom just found another miniature at our scene!"

"Grissom what?" Sara exclaimed.

"We're working this homicide at a poultry processing plant," Greg explained. "A guy died in the stun bath. While we were processing the room, Grissom found its miniature duplicate in the sink."

"The Miniature Killer was there?" Sara asked. "We have another chance?"

"That's what Grissom said," Greg said. "You two are spending too much time together."

"Funny," Sara said. "Where is he?"

"He just left for the lab. He took his new baby with him."

Sara rolled her eyes. "I've got to see it."

"Well, check the layout room. I'd say it's a pretty safe bet that's where he'll be."

"I will," Sara said. "Thanks, Greg, for the heads up."

"You're welcome. Let me know if you find anything."

"Yeah, you do the same."

"Got it. Bye, Sara."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone and began to walk faster to her car. She could hardly wait to get back to the lab.

* * *

As Greg had suggested, she found Grissom in the layout room. The miniature was on the table in front of him, along with the first two. Pictures and notes littered the table and were posted on the walls. When Sara walked into the room, Grissom was holding a piece of the miniature in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other. His face held a jubilant, almost gleeful expression.

"You look like a kid who has just found the prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box," Sara said with a slight smile. She loved seeing Grissom so passionate about his work.

"Definitely some kind of doll," he replied, holding up his prize and the magnifying glass for Sara to see.

Sara leaned into him to look through the magnifying glass. Grissom was holding a tiny picture obviously peeled from the miniature. It showed a doll laying facedown on a sidewalk with blood spilling from her head.

"It sure is," Sara agreed.

Grissom, still holding the picture, turned to the board covered with pictures from the previous miniatures. Sara followed him.

"Three different views of the same dead doll," he said. "Maybe this is more than a signature; maybe there's something these victims have in common."

Sara began rattling off their ethnic and socioeconomic details. No common thread existed between the three victims. She shook her head at Grissom, who shook his own head.

"And, unfortunately, this is the best lead we have for their killer," he said, picking up a blurry picture. Taken by a neighbor's security camera, it showed the second miniature being delivered to the crime scene.

"This is the most Archie could get off this video?" Sara asked in disbelief. She had never seen Archie give up on such a blurry image.

"Well, with the equipment we have here," Grissom said, a bit of disgust edging its way into his voice. He suddenly wished he had pushed harder for more A/V funding as Archie had requested.

Grissom led them back to the table again. Sara looked down at the picture of the most recent victim in the stun bath.

"I'm getting Raimundo's cell phone records," she said. "I'm going to see if any of his calls are a match to the numbers Penny Garden and Izzy Delancy had in common."

Grissom turned to look at her, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Whatever happened with that number we got off the disposable cell phone? Any luck with that?"

"Disposable cell phone numbers are assigned by the carrier to the cell phone distributors; it took a little legwork, but I did find the store where the phone was sold."

"Let me guess," Grissom said, irritation evident in his expression and tone. "It was paid for in cash."

"Yeah," Sara said, distracted by the case file in front of her. She began to skim some of the details of the most recent case and nearly gasped. "Mannleigh Chickens?"

"What about it?" Grissom asked, his attention already headed back to the miniature.

Sara picked up the file and turned to leave the room. "I'll let you know," she said as she walked to the door.

Grissom turned to look at her in disbelief.

Sara paused in the doorway and turned back to him. "See how it feels," she said.

Grissom's eyebrows shot up, and Sara smiled. He watched in surprise as she walked down the hall without saying anything more. Shaking his head, he went back to studying the miniature.

* * *

Sara pulled out all the research she had done into Izzy Delancy. Combing through her copious notes was going to take some time, but she was sure she remembered something about Mannleigh Chickens and a connection between the company and the singer.

"Hey."

Sara looked up to see Greg standing in the doorway. She smiled. "Hi."

"Did you see the miniature?"

"I did."

"And?"

"And, Grissom found another picture of the dead doll," she said. "It's definitely the signature, but now he thinks that it represents something more."

Greg came in and sat down across the table from her. "What are you doing? Researching dead dolls?"

"Ha, ha," Sara said. "No, I'm trying to find where I saw Mannleigh Chickens during the Izzy Delancy case."

Greg frowned slightly. "I don't remember there being a connection between the two."

"Yeah, well, that's probably because you were busy combing the tabloids until you found that story about his first marriage …. That's it!"

"What are you talking about? How does Izzy's first marriage connect to the chicken guy? And, in case you've forgotten, you were every bit as into that tabloid stuff as I was."

"Yeah, that's it," Sara said, looking up at Greg with eyes shining with excitement. "When we got into that race to see who could find more celebrity gossip about Izzy, I found all those news articles about his midlife epiphany and vegetarianism."

"Wait, what?" Greg asked. "I thought the man used to bite the heads off of chickens during his shows!"

"That's just it," Sara said. "Everyone went nuts when he became a vegetarian, so he did a bunch of PR work to prove that he was serious about it … Here! This is what I wanted!"

"What is it?"

"A PSA he did against Mannleigh Chickens," Sara said. "Can you tell Grissom to meet me in the A/V lab? He's got to see this."

"Sure," Greg agreed. "I'm always more than happy to help you."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Thanks, though."

Greg grinned at her and left to find Grissom. Sara picked up her tape and made her way to the A/V lab.

She had just finished cueing up the tape when Grissom entered the room. He looked at her with questions in his eyes.

"Greg said you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah," Sara said. "Have a seat. We're going to watch a movie."

Grissom smiled and sat down next to her. "Is this the connection you ran out of the layout room to find?"

"It is," Sara confirmed. She smiled. "So, how does it feel to be completely in the dark while your colleague has all the answers but refuses to share?"

Grissom scrunched up his nose at her. "You've made your point. Just play the video."

Chuckling, Sara pressed the play button.

Within moments, Izzy Delancy's face filled the screen. He started the PSA with a confessional of sorts, touching on his lifestyle change that led him to become an animal rights activist. When he started comparing the number of chickens killed in the United States to the number of people killed in the Rwandan genocide, Sara paused the tape. Grissom looked at her in disbelief.

"Where did you find this?" he asked.

Figuring that it was not the time to explain her "arms race" with Greg to find the most salacious Izzy Delancy gossip, Sara went right to the heart of the matter.

"I like animals," she began, "and, after the Delancy murder, I brushed up on my history. As it turns out, three years ago, Izzy Delancy had a midlife awakening and became an animal rights activist. He starred in and financed this PSA targeting Mannleigh Chickens as the epitome of all that is wrong with the slaughter industry."

She pressed play again to show the footage that Izzy and his undercover reporters had recorded at the Mannleigh plant. She and Grissom watched as chickens were violently abused by Mannleigh employees. Sara shoved aside her distaste at the treatment of the animals to see the bigger picture: This PSA was motive for Ike Mannleigh to have killed Izzy Delancy.

When she stopped the video again, it was clear that Grissom was thinking along the same lines.

"How bad did Mannleigh get hurt by this?" he asked.

"His sales dropped 60%," Sara said. "He launched a very expensive PR campaign to rehabilitate his image, including retrofitting the plant with cruelty-free equipment. His business never recovered. He probably _hated_ Delancy."

Grissom nodded. "So, we've found motive for him to kill Izzy," he said. "And, according to the statements Brass got from his workers, Mannleigh likely knew that his wife was having an affair with Raimundo. So, he's connected to and has motive to kill two of the victims. What about Penny Garden?"

Sara shook her head. "I haven't established a connection there yet."

"Well, two out of three is enough for Brass to talk to him," Grissom said. "I'll have him bring our chicken man in. We'll see if he can't get a little more for us to go on."

* * *

While Brass was getting nowhere with Ike Mannleigh, Grissom received a new piece of A/V equipment. He was determined to get more from the blurred image of the person delivering Penny Garden's miniature – and, was willing to take money from his budget to do it.

"Whoa!" Archie exclaimed when Grissom brought the new equipment into the lab. "Are you serious? You finally got one of these?"

"Yes," Grissom said. "I'm going to get more from that image if it kills me – _and_ our budget."

"Oh, wow," Archie said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Can I play with it?"

"Not yet," Grissom said. "I want to enhance this image first. Once I'm done, it's all yours."

"You really know how to suck the fun out of this job, don't you?" Archie said.

Grissom smiled. "That's what bosses are for." He glanced at the clock. "Bosses are also good at reminding their employees when they were scheduled for short days to make up for the overtime they clocked the week before."

"I really, really hate you right now," Archie said, getting up to clock out. "I'll be back to watch this thing in action."

"As long as you're off the clock."

"Yes, sir."

Archie left the room, and Grissom got to work on his image. He heard someone enter the room and walk up behind him. Assuming it was Archie, he didn't even turn around. Finally bringing the image to high enough resolution to read the back of the man's jacket, Grissom waited for Archie's reaction. It was not what he anticipated.

A loud, train-whistle sound split the air. Grissom jumped slightly and turned to see that it was not Archie, but Hodges who hung over his shoulder, providing sound effects to supplement his project.

"Thank you, Hodges," he said, more than a little irritated. "I can see that it's a train."

"Yeah, it's Locomotiveville," Hodges said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Realizing that Grissom had no idea what he was talking about, he thrust his hands back into his pockets. "Sorry. Thought you might be a member."

Grissom turned to look at him again, then back at the screen. For as annoying as he was, Hodges was full of useful information.

"Okay, Hodges, are you a member?" he asked.

"Of course," Hodges replied. "My grandpa and I always used to build model trains together. I've been a member since I was a little kid. Of course, I've let my hobby go since I started working here – not enough time to devote to it anymore – but, I've kept the membership. It seems wrong to cancel it. I'd be letting Gramps down."

_More information than I needed_, Grissom thought. "Does Locomotiveville have a website?"

"Yeah, who doesn't? It provides plenty of information. Store recommendations … model suggestions … contests … members' pictures …"

"Good," Grissom said, cutting him off before he could continue. "Find Greg. Give him the website and tell him to look through the members until he finds one who is connected to Mannleigh Chickens."

"I'm on it," Hodges said, looking terribly pleased that Grissom had given him such an important task.

Hodges hurried out the room, nearly colliding with Archie.

"Sorry, boss," Archie said. "I got caught up talking to Henry. How's it coming?"

"Done," Grissom said, printing the images he needed. "It's all yours."

Grinning like a kid in a candy store, Archie took Grissom's seat, making himself comfortable to play with his new toy.

* * *

For the first time with their serial killer, things began to happen quickly. After searching Locomotiveville's website, Greg found a member, Ernie Dell, who worked for Mannleigh Chickens. He went with Brass and an army of officers to his house. While Mr. Dell was not home, Greg and Brass discovered his workshop. The man's entire basement was full of miniatures – trains, villages, people – and some showed rather gruesome deaths. Greg documented and collected his model making tools, then called Grissom to let him know what they had found.

"Thank God," Grissom said as he hung up the phone.

"What?" Sara asked, glancing up from the cell phone lists she was comparing to find common numbers between Izzy, Penny and Raimundo.

"Greg thinks we've got him," Grissom said, smiling broadly. "He and Brass are on their way back from Ernie Dell's place. Apparently, the man is a prolific model maker. Greg's bringing in his molds to compare with the miniature components."

Sara's eyes opened wide. "You mean, this might all be over?"

Grissom nodded. "This might all be over."

Sara exhaled slowly. "We've been chasing this guy for so long … I was starting to think we'd never find him."

"Everyone slips up and leaves a clue eventually," Grissom said. "It's just a question of _when_."

Grissom's phone rang again. Raising his eyebrows at Sara, he picked it up.

"Grissom. … Really? That was fast. … Yeah, true. … Okay. … I'll test them once Greg brings them in, then I'll call you. … Okay. … Bye."

He closed his phone and looked at Sara.

"Well?"

"Uniforms are searching for Ernie Dell," Grissom said. "Brass and I are going to do the interrogation once they have him in custody. I just need –"

"Grissom!"

"Greg," Grissom said, both finishing his statement and welcoming the younger man in the room.

"I have all Dell's molds and other model making tools," Greg said, putting an armload of evidence bags onto the table. "There are more in the truck. I'll go get them."

Grissom's eyes widened. "This is an awful lot of stuff."

"Yeah, well, you should see the miniature world he has in his house," Greg replied. "I'm not entirely sure when he has time to go to work. He must spend every free minute working on this stuff."

"We all have hobbies," Grissom said.

"This goes way beyond hobby and into obsession," Greg said. "But, I suppose that I can't say anyone who makes miniatures of crime scenes then kills people to match the miniatures is _balanced_."

"Good point," Sara said.

"Okay," Grissom said. "I'm going to start testing these molds. You two work on connecting Dell to all three victims, okay?"

"We're on it," Sara said. "Come on, Greg. Let's do some research."

"Right," Greg agreed.

"And, Greg?" Grissom said as they headed for the door.

Greg stopped and turned to look at Grissom. "Yeah?"

"Good job."

Greg smiled. "Thanks."

Greg followed Sara down the hall to the layout room that held all three miniatures and their related evidence. She was already sitting down when he entered the room.

"Okay," Greg said. "So, obviously, Dell knew Raimundo Suarez. They worked together."

"Right," Sara agreed. "Any animosity between them? We're going to need motive."

"Well, he denied having a thing for Mannleigh's wife when Brass questioned him the first time, but you never know. Maybe he was jealous of their affair."

"We can go with that for now," Sara said. "And, we're only considering Dell at all because you and Grissom found the image of him delivering the miniature to Penny Garden's house. He must have known her somehow."

Greg picked up Ernie's file and began to read through it. "It says that he's a handyman," he said. "Maybe he did some work for her."

"Fair enough," Sara said. "I wonder if he keeps decent records. We might be able to prove that."

"Why would he want to kill her, though?" Greg asked.

Sara looked at him for a moment, then shrugged helplessly. "Let's come back to that. Izzy Delancy?"

Greg shrugged. "How many people get that close to a rock star?"

"I wonder …" Sara said. "Do we have pictures of him?"

Greg nodded and dug through a file until he found Dell's DMV picture. "Why?"

"Let's watch Izzy's PSA. He used footage of Mannleigh employees manhandling the chickens. Maybe he got a shot of Ernie in there. Maybe it was revenge."

"Okay," Greg agreed. "Let's watch."

They only needed to watch it once to find Ernie. It was so obviously him breaking a chicken's wings that Sara and Greg stared at each other in shock.

"Well," Sara said, clearing her throat, "I think the motive in this one is pretty clear. Let's print a still to give to Brass for the interrogation."

* * *

Not surprisingly, Ernie Dell denied having anything to do with the deaths or miniatures. Even when confronted with Grissom's evidence that his molds had been used to make the components of the miniatures, he only asked to have his tools back. He denied knowing Izzy Delancy beyond his famous persona, and looked completely confused by Penny Garden's name. When Brass came up empty with his line of questioning, Grissom pulled out pictures of each miniature. Laying them on the table in front of Ernie, he watched his reactions carefully.

"Do you have any idea how your work ended up at crime scenes from three different murders?" he asked.

Ernie stared at the pictures. "I – I've been making scale models since I was nine years old. I sell my stuff at craft fairs, hobby shops, over the internet … every damn place. Sold things to hundreds of people over the years. Any of them could have ended up in the hands of your killer."

Grissom looked at him closely, trying to determine if he was telling them the truth. He looked honest … but, scared.

Ernie sat back and folded his arms. "You're just picking on an old man because you've got nothing," he said.

Brass shrugged. "We're just talking here, Ernie, we're just talking."

"You charging me with something?"

"You want a cup of coffee, Ernie?" Brass offered. "We've got decaf."

"Charge me, or let me go," Ernie said in a voice that clearly told them _he_ was giving the orders now.

He looked at Grissom, who held his eyes without blinking, silently telling Ernie that he could put on all the bravado he wanted, but he'd never fool them. Seeing that he didn't have the upper hand, Ernie caved and looked away.

"I want a lawyer," he said.

"You're free to go," Brass said, resisting the urge to tell him not to go far.

Ernie left the room and Brass exhaled.

"So, is he right? Are we really just picking on an old man, or is he the bad guy?"

"Well, he's associated peripherally with all the victims, and he certainly has the right skills," Grissom said.

"Yeah," Brass said. "He's spent half his life in Locomotiveville."

"I know what it's like to lose yourself in little things," Grissom said. "After awhile, it gets to you."

"Yeah," Brass agreed. "But, it's far easier – and far more legal – to ride a rollercoaster than it is to kill someone."

"Yeah," Grissom said quietly.

Brass looked at him for a minute. "Don't start that, Gil. Don't start comparing your habits to theirs. Any one of us could find things we have in common with every murderer who comes through this station. We're not them. We didn't make their choices, and we won't. We don't have it in us."

Grissom exhaled. "I'm going back to the lab."

"Gil," Brass said as he got up, "I'm serious."

"I know," Grissom said. "I guess … after all these months … after so much work …" He shrugged. "I expected more."

* * *

Grissom was staring at a case file without seeing it when a giggling Catherine entered his office. Grissom stared at her as she sat down.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I just watched Brass interrogate cement man," she said. "Remember him?"

Grissom nodded, thinking that it felt like years ago that he had left for the case with Catherine. They had found the man in stuck in cement next to a dead body. Even upon arriving at the scene, Catherine had been unable to stop laughing.

"What's his story?" he asked.

"Well, the woman next to him was his wife," she said. "He accidentally killed her."

"And, then dumped her in wet cement?" Grissom asked incredulously.

"Wait – this story is ridiculous."

Grissom listened as Catherine explained how Max, their cement man, and his wife had dropped a bowl of jello. Trying to clean it up, he had accidentally stabbed her with a shard of glass, killing her almost immediately. Looking up, he realized that his neighbor had seen the whole thing. Hoping to talk her into keeping quiet, he had gone to her apartment, where he had accidentally slammed her head into a wall, killing her. He had then shoved his neighbor's head into her oven, hoping to make her death appear to be a suicide. In attempting to dump his wife's body, he had managed to get both of them stuck in wet cement.

Grissom stared at Catherine as she finished her story and dissolved into laughter again.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's horrible, but it's really funny. It's horrible, but it's funny!"

Realizing that Grissom wasn't laughing with her, but staring at her, she sobered. He never lost the chance to see humor in a case.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her amusement changing in a heartbeat to concern.

Grissom shook his head in disbelief. "A guy kills two people before breakfast that he had no intention of killing when he woke up that morning. By all accounts, he's led a meager life, an unnoticed life. Then, all of a sudden, in a flash, it's over. And, now, for him, the real suffering begins."

Catherine frowned. "You're tired."

"Yeah," he acknowledged.

"Hey!" Sara burst into his office, a beaming smile firmly in place. "Guess what?"

"Mankind has reached a new evolutionary plateau, and starting tomorrow, no one will rape, murder or maim again?" Grissom guessed.

"Um … no," Sara said, looking from Grissom to Catherine.

"Too bad," Grissom said quietly.

Catherine shrugged helplessly.

"But, we did catch a break on that disposable cell phone number," Sara said, struggling to rein in her excited smile.

"Raimundo Suarez called it as well," Grissom said.

"No, he didn't," Sara said. "But, according to the carrier, additional minutes were recently purchased with a credit card belonging to Ernie Dell. Brass is already on it. They're picking him up. We've got the Miniature Killer."

Grissom nodded slightly.

Sara's smile faltered again as she looked at Catherine, then back at Grissom. "Um … Griss, this is a good thing. Shouldn't you be excited?"

"Excited that someone put that much effort into killing three innocent people?" he asked. "No."

Catherine stood up. "When babies get tired, they cry. When Grissom gets tired, he gets philosophical." She reached across to cover his hand with hers. "Take some time off. Two days, a week, whatever. Just … take a break. I'll keep the guys in line for you."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Thanks, Cath."

She turned to leave, pausing to squeeze Sara's shoulder. "Good job."

"Thanks," Sara said, giving her a wide smile.

Once Catherine was gone, Sara looked at Grissom. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Long day."

"Want to grab dinner? It'll be a little while before Brass gets Ernie back here. We've got time before he'll need you."

He didn't, really – the act of eating seemed like an awful lot at the moment –, but he knew that he should. "Okay."

"I just need to clean up my stuff and grab my purse. Meet you back here?"

Grissom nodded. "Okay."

Sara started to walk out, then paused in the doorway. "Gil – I'll see you when I see you."

He nodded and coaxed forth a smile. "I'll see you when I see you."

Once Sara was gone, Grissom forced himself out of his chair. He walked around to the front of his desk, leaning on it while he waited for her to return. His email alert split the silence of his dim office. Deciding to check the message before leaving with Sara, he sat back down.

The message was from Ernie Dell. The subject line was a stated confession to the three murders. The message was a link to a live video. Grissom clicked the link.

Ernie Dell could be seen adjusting his webcam. He straightened up.

"My name is Ernest Edward Dell," he said. "I was born in 1946, in Ames, Iowa. My life had been hard, but I don't complain. I never expected it to be better." He picked up a cup of tea. "I'm good with my hands – I make things, I fix things. I'm a handyman; it's what I am.

"A man has a right to an honest day's pay. Me, I service the machinery of death so that people can eat. If that makes me evil, then so be it." He paused to take a sip of his tea.

"I'm not the sociable type; I know that. Spend any amount of time around people, you get your heart broke. Treachery … hypocrisy … the promise of love. Look into the mouth of a person, and you'll find lies, wriggling there like maggots waiting to grow wings. The world has gone mad. A man could kill from sun up to sunset, and, still, his work would never be done."

He reached down again; Grissom assumed he was going to take another sip of his tea. Nothing could have prepared him for the next three seconds. Ernie straightened up with a gun in his hand and, without a moment's hesitation, put it under his chin and shot himself.

Grissom jumped, horror filling him. He could hear the voices of the SWAT team as they hurried through the house; within a moment, two of them were on the screen, trying fruitlessly to help Ernie.

Grissom was still staring at the screen when Sara walked back into his office.

"Hey, are you ready?" she asked.

Grissom didn't even look up to acknowledge her.

Sara frowned. "Griss? Are you okay?"

Still, he couldn't tear his eyes from the screen.

Sara had seen Grissom absorbed in his work before, but never with such a look of horror and shock on his face. She crossed the room and knelt down next to him, taking one of his cold hands and rubbing it between hers. "Gil?" she asked quietly.

Grissom finally managed to shake himself free of his inner turmoil to look down at her. He curled his fingers around hers, hanging on to her hand as though it were a lifeline.

"Gil?" she asked again. "What's wrong?"

"Sara …" Grissom worked on swallowing. "Ernie Dell just sent me his confession to the murders."

"Oh," Sara said, confused as to why this would upset him so much.

"He also sent a video. He – Sara, he shot himself. On live video. I watched it."

"Oh, Gil," Sara said, clutching his hand all the tighter. "I never –"

Grissom's phone began to ring. Tearing his hands away from hers, he picked it up. "It's Brass," he told her.

Sara nodded and stood up while Grissom talked to Brass. A moment later, he hung up the phone.

"He just called to tell me about the suicide," he said. He shivered. "I know we were going to go to dinner, but right now I just …"

"It's fine," Sara said. She looked at her watch. "We've both pulled a double. I'm sure we can go home now without fear of reprimand. Can I drive you?"

Grissom nodded. "Yeah … that's a good idea."

Sara nodded and took his hand. "Leave your stuff. You're not working on anything tonight."

Grissom nodded again and let her lead him from his office. They walked through the empty halls hand in hand, neither worried about drawing attention to themselves. At that moment, giving and receiving comfort were far more important.

* * *

Sara drove them home. She couldn't help but feel a bit glad that Hank was with the sitter; she knew that Grissom wasn't up to caring for him, and she wasn't up for leaving Grissom alone. She led him to the bedroom.

"You need to sleep," she said.

He nodded and kicked off his shoes. Satisfied that he would get ready for bed, Sara went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.

By the time she returned to the bedroom, Grissom was already in bed. She changed her clothes and crawled in next to him. Grissom reached for her and pulled her tightly against him. Sara laid her head on his shoulder and ran her hand over his chest in a soothing gesture.

"I'm glad you're here," Grissom said quietly, catching her hand in his and squeezing it. "I'm glad you'll always be here."

Sara leaned up to kiss his chin. "I love you."

Grissom didn't respond with words, but held her all the tighter.

* * *

When Sara awoke, she was alone in bed. Hearing dishes clattering, she assumed that Grissom was in the kitchen. She sat up and stretched.

She needed to do something to help him refocus. He had been so obsessed with solving this case for so long … she had feeling that its horrifying climax was just too much for Grissom. He needed a break.

Catherine's suggestion of time off was appealing. She was sure that a get-a-way would help Grissom more than anything. But, how would he manage to get both of them the time off so quickly? No, there had to be something else …

Sara looked at the walls, and was struck by their bareness. They needed artwork. She smiled.

Grissom loved shopping for artwork. Growing up in his mother's gallery, he was very knowledgeable about it. He put an amazing amount of concentration, energy and passion into each piece he selected. And, he loved every minute of the process.

Her decision made, Sara pulled herself from bed and went in search of her boyfriend. As she had assumed, she found him in the kitchen, making dinner

"Hey, I was thinking," she said as she joined him.

"I'm proud of you," Grissom said when Sara paused.

She rolled her eyes. "What do you think of going shopping next weekend?"

Grissom looked at her blankly. "Shopping requires advance notice?"

"Well, I was thinking of shopping for some new artwork," Sara clarified. "I can't stand how bare our walls are. I thought that, if you could schedule us both off next Saturday, we might be able to hit some of the local galleries."

Grissom's eyes widened. "Oh, Sara. I can't."

She frowned. "Better plans?"

"Um…Honey, I'm not going to be in town next weekend."

Sara's frown deepened. "Where are you going?"

"To Williams College."

"Oh," she said. "Are you giving a lecture? Thanks for the advance notice, by the way. How long will you be gone? The entire week?"

"Longer," Grissom said. "I'll be gone for the month."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "The month?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"As in, all of January?"

"Yes. And the first week of February."

Trying to regain her composure, she quirked one eyebrow. "What will you be doing for that month?"

"Teaching a winter term class. It's an interdisciplinary examination of Walden Pond."

"That's why you've been reading it?" Sara asked with dawning understanding.

"Yes."

She frowned again, realizing the first time she had seen him with the book. "How long, exactly, have you known about this?"

"A while, I suppose," Grissom said, shrugging slightly. "They wrote to me, and it sounded like a great opportunity."

"A great opportunity," Sara repeated.

"Yes, I …" Grissom trailed off and looked at her for a moment. "You're upset."

"A bit," Sara conceded.

"Why?"

His confusion as to why she would be upset was nearly enough to make Sara scream. She took a deep breath and silently counted to ten.

"Sara?"

"I … I'm sure you'll have a great time," she said. "I'll go set the table. That looks like it's nearly done."

She turned her back on him, leaving Grissom frowning in confusion.


	76. Unsaid

A/N: This chapter picks up literally exactly where the last one ended. I suppose the first scene could have been a part of the last chapter, but I wanted to break the tension a little…not that that means there's no tension here!

I'm really happy with this chapter, but I'm a little nervous about what you'll think. It doesn't go the way most "Grissom's leaving for sabbatical" fics go, but, I think it's very true to the characters. Any and all feedback would be appreciated!

Thanks so much for reading. I really hope you like this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 711, "Leaving Las Vegas."

* * *

_Unsaid_

She could feel him watching her as she pulled plates from the cupboard and carried them to the table. Sighing, she decided to be the bigger person and break the silence.

"When do you leave?" she asked with a determined calm in her voice.

"Friday night." Grissom's words were slightly tentative, as though afraid that she would explode if he said the wrong thing.

"Friday," she repeated. "That's in three days."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'm going to take the next few days to sort out everything on my desk before Catherine takes over."

"Right."

Sara didn't comment further, and the conversation ended. She continued her table-setting mission, refusing to look at him. She wasn't sure what would happen if she did, but she had a feeling it would either involve tears or yelling, neither of which would be productive.

Still frowning, Grissom finished mixing the pasta he had made and followed Sara to the table. She was putting on the cutlery; he set their main course down and watched her short, choppy movements.

"Sara … I don't understand. Why are you upset?"

"Grissom, just … look, I'm not upset. You love teaching. This is a great thing for you to do. I'm just … surprised, that's all. It would have been nice to know in advance that you were going to be gone for a month."

"But … I didn't think it would matter all that much to you. I mean, you're not going. You don't need to pack or request the time off or …"

Sara sat down hard. "Drop it, Griss."

"Sara, please," Grissom said, sitting down across from her and reaching out for her hand. "If I've upset you, I want to make it right."

She gave him a falsely bright smile. _Make it right?_ her inner monologue screamed. _Make it _right_?!_ "It's fine," she said aloud. "Let's just drop it, okay?"

"Sara –"

"Drop it," she said again, cutting him off.

Realizing that he wasn't going to be able to work this to a good place, Grissom followed Sara's orders and meekly served them both their food.

The meal passed in silence.

* * *

After dinner, Sara volunteered to clean up. Grissom nodded his agreement.

"I'll go pick up Hank," he said.

"Oh, good. I'll save him some pasta."

Grissom smiled. "He'll like that." He pulled on his jacket and watched her wrap their leftover food. "Sara …"

She turned to look at him. "Yeah?"

He smiled helplessly. "I'll see you when I get back."

She nodded. "I'll be here."

Grissom couldn't help but feel slightly relieved at her words. He grabbed his keys from the counter and left to get the dog.

Sara exhaled and picked up her phone. She could multitask, and this was one time she needed to use her skills. She pressed her speed dial buttons and put the leftovers in the fridge while she listened to the phone ring.

"Hi, Sara."

"You are not going to _believe_ what Grissom did!"

Mary chuckled. "So, the honeymoon is finally over for Goldie and Kurt?"

"Don't laugh, Mar," Sara cautioned. "Just wait till I tell you …"

"Okay. Tell me."

"So, I walked into the kitchen today and suggested going shopping for some new artwork this weekend," Sara said. "Do you have any idea what he told me?"

"Um…that there are no acceptable galleries aside from his mother's, and your walls will be bare until the two of you can go to California to buy artwork from her?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "That would be a no."

"Okay, then I'm out. What did he say?"

"He said that he can't go this weekend because he's going to be out of town!"

"Okay… I'm assuming he's going to be gone for a while to have you so worked up?"

"A _month_!" Sara nearly yelled. "He's going to be gone for a month, and didn't feel the need to tell me until three days before he has to leave!"

"A month?" Mary repeated in shock. "Where is he going for a month?"

"Williams College," Sara said helplessly.

"Williams College?" Mary repeated. "What the hell is he going to do there for a month?"

"He's teaching some winter term class," Sara explained.

"Well, tell him to pack his woolies," Mary said. "It can get nippy up there in January." She paused. "I wonder if he'll have cell phone service."

"Could you stop laughing about this and appreciate it for the crisis it is?" Sara exclaimed.

"Sweetheart," Mary said slowly, "I'm not about to tell you that you're overreacting. If Tom told me out of nowhere that he was leaving on Friday for some point on the other side of the country and wouldn't be back for a month, I'd be furious. I'm just … trying to help you calm down." She paused. "And, I'm serious about the cell phone thing. Williams is in the middle of nowhere!"

Sara couldn't help but smile. "It's not totally in the middle of nowhere. You're just too Bostonian to see anything outside of the Boston metro area as a viable place to live."

"Not true," Mary argued. "When have I ever said that you live in the middle of nowhere?"

"I live in a city!" Sara laughed. "Okay, you've achieved your goal. I'm willing to laugh at you now."

"Good," Mary said. "Are you ready to talk to Grissom about this?"

Sara sighed. "What's the point? He's leaving. He's already committed to the college. Nothing I say can change that."

"Yeah, but he at least needs to know that he handled it badly!" Mary argued. "He needs to know that you're upset, Sara!"

"Why?" Sara asked. "What good will that do?"

"That way, the next time he gets an offer to teach a class, he'll at least mention it to you before agreeing to do it."

"Yeah," Sara said with a mirthless laugh. "I'm sure he'll think it through that much. Mary, the man is a genius, but anything that smacks of the emotional is a bit beyond him."

"Untrue," Mary said flatly. "He loves you, Sara. There's an awful lot of emotion in the way he feels about you."

"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling much of that right now."

"You need to talk to him, Sara. You can't just let this go."

Sara shook her head. "I'm not starting a fight with him over something that's already done. He'll teach his class, I'll take care of our house and dog, and, in a month, everything will go back to the way it was before. The break will do us good."

"Sara …"

"I won't do it, Mary," Sara said. "I won't fight with him over nothing."

"Sara! The man is leaving for a _month_ without discussing it with you! This isn't _nothing_!"

"Okay, you're right. It's not. It's very major. But, there's nothing he can do to make it better, so I'm not going to fight about it. There's no point."

Mary sighed. "You're sure this is the best way to handle it?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay. Hey, listen, Tom and Josie just came in. Can I call you back later?"

"Yeah. Tell them hi for me."

"I will. And, Sara, please, just think about what I said."

"I will."

"Take care."

"You, too. Bye."

"Bye."

Sara sighed and closed her phone. "I'll think about it, Mary – but, that won't change my mind. I'm not starting a fight over something that can't be fixed."

* * *

When Grissom and Hank got home, Sara was lying on the couch watching tv. She sat up when Hank bounded into the house.

"Hey, buddy!" she exclaimed, grabbing him into a hug as he jumped up on her.

"Hank, down," Grissom said without any real passion. He had been trying to train the dog not to jump on the furniture for years, but with only limited success.

"Hi," Sara said, looking up at him.

"Hi," he replied almost cautiously.

"How was he?"

"Good, as always," Grissom said. He took a seat across from Sara. "Listen, Sara, I think we need to talk –"

"No, we don't," she said, cutting him off. "I already told you, I'm not upset. We'll be fine. Stop trying to fix it. There's no need."

"You're sure?"

Sara wanted to scream. Why wouldn't anyone believe her? "I'm sure." She stood up. "Why don't we take Hank out for a walk? We still have some time before we have to leave for work."

Grissom nodded. "Good idea." He looked at her thin top. "You'd better grab a jacket. It's chilly."

"Not as chilly as it's going to be at Williams."

Grissom forced a smile, wondering if he had heard or imagined a trace of anger in her voice. "I'll pack warm clothes."

"Good."

Sara went to get her jacket, and Grissom clipped Hank's leash back on his collar. He sighed. Sara was taking this far too well. After her initial, shocked reaction, he had expected serious fireworks. The fact that there hadn't been any was making him nervous.

But, at the same time, he felt relieved. He didn't want to fight with her, and he did want to go to Williams. Things were going just as he had hoped.

"Ready?"

Grissom nodded and looked at Sara in her jacket and scarf. He grabbed the end of her scarf and toyed with it for a moment.

"I know," she said with a teasing smile. "It's not right for me to wear a scarf just because it's cold." She reached up to touch his smooth cheek. How could he possibly have this affect on her? Even when she was angry with him, he was completely irresistible. "But, it's not like you have a beard to burn me anymore."

"Oh, honey, I can still leave marks if you'd like."

She smiled, her eyes going dark. "No," she said at last. "It's beard burn or nothing."

Grissom shrugged. "Nothing, then … for now."

Sara laughed. "Come on, boys. Let's go for our walk."

* * *

The next two days were very intense. Grissom spent so much time at work that he barely saw Sara. It had never occurred to him that he would need to do so much to have the shift ready for Catherine to take over for a month.

He sat at his desk, wading through a sea of paperwork, when he was interrupted by a knock on his open door. He looked up to see Hodges entering, carrying a wrapped box and grinning from ear to ear.

"Hodges," Grissom said. "How can I help you?"

"I brought you a little something," Hodges said, setting the box down on his desk with a flourish.

Grissom frowned. "You're a little late for Christmas."

"It's not a Christmas present. Go on; open it."

Figuring that it would only get Hodges out of his office so that he could return to work faster, Grissom opened the box. His eyes widened at the sight of the purple Williams College sweatshirt. He pulled it out of the box and looked at Hodges suspiciously.

"How did you know about this?"

"I saw an approved leave of absence form on Ecklie's desk," he replied. "Don't worry; I didn't say anything to anyone else."

Grissom nodded slightly, but the appalled look didn't leave his eyes.

"Did you think that you were going to teach at _my_ alma mater in the dead of winter without warm clothes?" Hodges asked with the tone of a mother scolding her errant four-year-old.

"I thought you went to college in San Diego," Grissom said, completely confused.

"Graduate school," Hodges clarified. "Undergraduate was all about the Bay State. Crazy times, my friend, crazy times. Those Hampshire girls, down at Amherst? Insane!"

"Thank you," Grissom said with clear dismissal in his tone.

"Ah, you're welcome," Hodges said with a wave of his hand.

Grissom put the sweatshirt back in the box and went back to his paperwork. Hodges, rather than taking the obvious hint, sat down.

"What are you teaching?" he asked.

Grissom glanced up. He smiled slightly, deciding that Hodges deserved the official title of his class. "The seasonal fluctuations in observed behaviors of the Walden Pond Swamp Mosquito." He smiled again, hoping that Hodges would leave.

He was disappointed.

"Excellent," Hodges mused. "Yeah, I don't know what college was like for you, but for me, it was a new beginning. A chance to reinvent myself. For the first time in my life, I felt like I fit in. Not like now." He looked up, afraid Grissom would misinterpret his statement. "I mean, you and I are close, but sometimes I just don't think the others get me."

Grissom was saved from responding by Catherine's knock on his door.

"You got a second?"

_I've got hours!_ Grissom wanted to scream. He could always count on Catherine to save him from Hodges.

"He's kinda busy," Hodges answered for him.

Catherine looked at him as though she would like nothing better than to smack him for that comment. Finally taking someone's hint, Hodges stood up.

"Oh." He looked back at Grissom. Leaning over his desk, he gave a final piece of advice, "When you get a chance, get the Purple Pint. Ask for Cookie. Tell her Davey Hodges sent you, and drinks will be on the house."

"Crazy times," Grissom said with a sarcastic smile.

Hodges nodded. "Yeah," he grinned as he straightened up to leave.

With Hodges finally gone, Catherine stepped in front of Grissom's desk.

"Jay Finch got an oil change the day that he killed his mother," she said, referencing an old case. "We compared the odometer reading on the work order against what it read when we impounded his car. The difference was 350 miles. We used that to create a search radius. Nick and I just spent six hours on the phone with sheriffs in every county inside that area. There was one unsolved case that matched our criteria in Larkston – Laura Montoya and her twelve-year-old daughter, Robin."

Grissom finally managed to ask his burning question. "Why are we talking about this? Finch got off, didn't he?"

"And, I don't buy it," Catherine said, shaking her head. "I need to go to Larkston."

"You can't."

"Look, I want a second shot at this guy! I want to get him before he kills again."

"I'm going on sabbatical," Grissom said. "You're going to be the acting supervisor while I'm gone."

Catherine's mouth dropped open in shock. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow night."

Catherine gave him a look that clearly said, _typical_. "I'll be back before then," she said, walking toward the door. She paused right before she reached it and turned to look at him again. "How long have you known about this?"

Grissom's mouth dropped open and he shook his head slightly. Why were all the women in his life so obsessed with how long he had waited to tell them about his plans?

Catherine read all she needed to know in the deer in the headlights look on his face and, shaking her own head and waving him off, left the office.

* * *

The next twenty hours were full of goodbyes. Hodges may have kept his secret, but Catherine was another matter. Within ten minutes of telling her, Grissom found himself bombarded by his staff. Everyone wanted to wish him well before he left.

Saying goodbye to Warrick was easy. He promised to be the team rock for Catherine just as he always had for Grissom.

Nick was a bit more difficult. Apparently, he was convinced that "sabbatical" meant "resignation." Aside from wishing him well and thanking him for all he had taught him, Nick actually _hugged_ him in the middle of the lab hallway.

"I'll be back in four weeks," Grissom said, standing stiffly in Nick's tight hug. "Stop hugging me."

Nick immediately released him. "Yes, sir."

Grissom looked at him as though he had lost his mind. Nick, wisely, backed away slowly.

But, the one person Grissom was truly concerned about leaving was Greg. He found him in the break room, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Hey," he said. "How's it going on your civil case? Did you get a lawyer?"

"LVPD said they'll provide me with an attorney," he replied.

"Get your own counsel, Greg," Grissom cautioned. "That's your right."

"Well, are you going to give me a raise? Because, otherwise, I can't afford that."

"Call the PPACE, talk to your union rep," Grissom said. "This was an on-duty incident; they'll provide you with an attorney."

Greg stopped stirring his coffee and looked at Grissom. He suddenly felt more nervous than he had in ages about his case. "How's a union lawyer going to be any different?"

"The department's only interest is the department," Grissom said. "They'll throw you under the bus to protect themselves. When's your deposition?"

"Three weeks from tomorrow."

Grissom had been afraid of that. He had hoped that it would be after he got back so that he could be there for Greg. "Stick to whatever you put in the report," he said. "Don't waver. Be consistent. Everything's going to be fine."

Greg nodded slightly, looking utterly terrified. "Yeah. If you say so."

"Greg, you did the right thing," Grissom said. "Never doubt that."

Greg nodded again.

"Sara will be here for you," Grissom said quietly. "If you have any questions or any doubts, talk to her."

Greg smiled slightly. "I always do. She's there for me like I'm there for her."

Grissom nodded. He had a feeling that she'd need him as much as he needed in the coming weeks. "Take care of her," he almost whispered.

"I always do," Greg said again.

* * *

Grissom didn't see Sara until just before he had to leave. He nearly ran through the halls, trying desperately to find her to say goodbye.

He found her in the locker room. She was taking off her jacket, preparing for her shift.

"Hey," he said, stopping in the doorway. "My cab's here."

Sara stopped her movements, looping her jacket over her arm and leaning against her locker as she looked at him. She gave him a smile. "So, you're going?" It wasn't that she doubted it, exactly, it was that neither of them had mentioned it since the day she had found out. She needed confirmation this one last time.

He shrugged slightly, looking a bit mystified by the whole thing. "Yeah."

She looked at him for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips. "I'll see you when you get back."

Grissom nodded, and Sara went back to getting ready for work. She reached into her locker for her ID badge, which she clipped to its usual place on her belt.

As he watched her, he was stuck by the sudden realization that he wouldn't see her again for an entire month. _A month without Sara_. He hadn't gone a month without seeing her in years – not since she had moved to Vegas. The closest he had come had been the three weeks following her near-DUI – and, as he recalled, that had been hell.

He glanced around to make sure that no one was coming down the hall and stepped into the locker room, closer to her.

Sara felt him watching her, and turned to look at him.

"I'll miss you," he said quietly.

Sara nodded. She wanted to repeat the sentiment back to him, but was terrified that she wouldn't be able to do so without crying. Grissom must have read it in her eyes; he nodded back at her before slowly walking away.

Looking back later, Sara was always impressed that she managed to wait to let her emotions show. It wasn't until Grissom had stepped from view that she let the tears fill her eyes. She lowered her head, staring at the floor.

"Don't cry," she whispered. "You're at work. Don't cry. Don't do it. Don't you dare let yourself cry. You. Are. At. Work."

Swallowing hard, she managed to blink back her tears. When Warrick appeared in the doorway to tell her that they had a case on the Strip, she nodded and walked out with him, keeping her tone light as she asked what details he knew.

She would be a professional while Grissom was gone. She would never let any of them know how much it hurt to have to go to work without him.

Even if it killed her.


	77. Gone

A/N: For me, this chapter is rather short. But, I wanted something to bridge the last chapter and the next one. I think this does it nicely. Hopefully, I won't leave you with this little tease of a chapter for too long.

Just in case I don't get to update tomorrow: Happy New Year!

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Gone_

Sara had never been so happy to work a double homicide in her life. It provided exactly the distraction she needed to help herself forget how miserable she was about Grissom's departure. She and Warrick spent hours at their scene before they were willing to call it a day. By the time they left, they had been working for nearly twelve hours, and Sara felt … not _better_, exactly, but her head was certainly clearer.

"I'll tell you, girl, you are a machine," Warrick said as they drove back to the lab. "If it weren't for you, I would have been there another twelve hours."

"Well, I think that's why Catherine assigned both of us to the case," Sara replied.

Warrick took his eyes off the road to give her a smile. "Smart ass."

Sara smiled. "So, what are you up to today? Big plans with Tina?"

"Nah," Warrick said, suddenly looking rather sad. "She … I don't know, Sara. It feels like she's pulling away from me. Now that she works in private practice and has normal hours, she suddenly doesn't understand the way our shifts work. It's like everything's unraveling and I don't know how to stop it."

Sara turned in her seat so that she could look at him. "Do you love her?"

"Yeah, of course. She's my wife."

"Then, you fight for her, Warrick. Don't you dare let her pull away from you without holding on like hell. You do everything in your power to save your marriage."

Warrick glanced at her, surprised by the passion behind her words. "Were you a marriage counselor before you came to Vegas?"

She smiled. "No. I just think that it would be terrible if your marriage broke up because you and Tina had issues over your job."

"Yeah, well, it's a tough job to have with a family," Warrick said. "Don't you find it interesting how few of us are married? It's like there's an unspoken understanding that it's better to avoid marriage. It's like everyone knows it can't end good."

"Somehow I doubt that Ecklie's wife left him because of the job," Sara said, thinking that she needed to divert their conversation to something that wouldn't leave Warrick quite so melancholy.

Warrick laughed. "The job was probably the only thing that held it together as long as they lasted."

"How long were they married?"

"Four years, I heard."

"Wow," Sara said, sitting back in her seat. "Can you imagine being married to Ecklie for _four years_?"

"Not many of his CSIs made it that long when he ran day shift," Warrick said with a chuckle.

Sara giggled. "He's an interesting character."

"I was going more for _evil_, but interesting works."

Sara laughed again. "They say evil is what gets you ahead in life," she said. "Martha Stewart said she'd sell out her own mother to make money and advance her career. I guess there's something to it, because she's done pretty well for herself. Except for that prison thing."

"Martha Stewart is also terrifying," Warrick said. "Even before she went to prison, I was afraid of her. _No one's_ house should look that good. Besides, I don't see you selling out your mother to advance your career."

"My career is fine as it is."

"I guess that's because you're not evil," Warrick said as he parked their SUV in its assigned spot. "Okay. So, we need to log this evidence, and then I am out of here."

"I'm with you there," Sara said, suddenly realizing how exhausted she was. The emotional strain of the past three days was catching up with her.

"Okay, then," Warrick said, opening his door. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Grissom had a smooth flight across the country. A representative from the college had been sent to pick him up at the airport; John, the student council president who was serving as his chauffer, helped him with his bags and directed him to the small car he had brought for the occasion.

"Have you been to Williams before?" he asked as they loaded Grissom's luggage into the trunk.

"No," Grissom replied.

John grinned. "Well, you're in for a treat. It's a great school."

Grissom smiled. "I've heard very good things about it."

"I'm signed up for your class," John continued. "I'm really looking forward to it."

"What are you studying?" Grissom asked.

"American literature," John replied. "My focus is on the nineteenth century. You know, the whole purpose of this January term is to think outside the box. We have to take something unrelated to our field. I'd say this qualifies."

"Well, it does involve Walden Pond," Grissom said.

John grinned. "My advisor said it's a small enough connection that I'm still legal."

Grissom smiled over his word choice. "Indeed."

The ride to Williams passed pleasantly enough. John had always lived in the northeast; he was full of questions about life in Las Vegas. Grissom answered them politely, thinking that this young man would probably spend the next month asking him questions.

That thought brought back the memory of a lecture he had given years ago, and of a young brunette, at the time only a few years older than John was now, and her endless series of questions. He smiled slightly. Sara had captured his interest from her very first question, and, if he were honest, it hadn't wavered since.

They arrived at Williams College, and John pointed out landmarks as he drove Grissom to the housing for visiting professors. He parked in front of Grissom's home for the next month and grinned at him.

"Well, here we are," he said. "I'll just help you take in your bags, and then I'll leave you to get settled."

Grissom nodded his agreement. Within a few moments, they had all his things inside his apartment.

"Thank you, John," he said. "You've been a great help today."

John grinned again in what Grissom was being to see was a trademark facial expression. "You're welcome. I hope you like it here."

"I'm sure I will."

"Well, I'll see you in class on Monday," John said. "It was great meeting you, Dr. Grissom."

"You, too," Grissom said.

With one last smile, John was gone.

Grissom shut the door behind him, then started assessing his new surroundings. He smiled to himself. The apartment reminded him very strongly of the one he had had as a graduate student. The living room was in the same place and the kitchen was set up the same way. The best feature of this little apartment was its windows. It had plenty of them, all large to let in lots of sunshine.

"Sara would like that," Grissom muttered to himself, stepping in front of one of them to look out at the snow-covered landscape.

It was, in a word, gorgeous. Grissom felt a thrill of child-like excitement as he looked at the snow that covered the grass, trees and roofs. It was still falling in big, fluffy flakes, completely undoing all the work the groundskeepers had done to clear the sidewalks.

Stifling the urge to run outside just to let the snow fall on him, too, Grissom turned back to his apartment. While he was sure that Sara would like the windows, he was just as sure that she would _not_ like the wall-to-wall carpeting that adorned the entire apartment. He smiled, thinking of what she would say about the germs that were festering all around him.

And, suddenly, he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to tell her about the apartment, about the snow, about John, even about his flight. He took out his phone and noted the time. In Vegas, Sara was probably sleeping, assuming she had left work on time. He didn't want to disturb her.

Maybe a text message …

After spending far longer than should have been necessary composing, he hit send.

* * *

Sara walked into the house and tossed her keys on the table by the door. Hank ran up the stairs to meet her, wagging his tail.

"Hi, sweetie," she said, running her hands over his head. "Let me change, and then we'll go out for a run."

She stepped further into the house, and stopped short.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"

It wasn't that she had forgotten about the boxes, exactly. She knew that they hadn't finished unpacking – and, that they hadn't even started on their library-like book collection. But, it suddenly hit her, as she stared at the mountains of boxes, that Grissom had left for _an entire month_. The job of unpacking would be Sara's.

"I swear to God, Gil …" she muttered. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Well, you're just going to have to deal with my organizational system, then. I am so not waiting for you on this one."

She walked back to the bedroom to change into her running clothes, and her phone beeped to indicate a text message. Hoping that it wasn't Catherine asking her to come back to work, she opened it.

_Message from: Grissom_

_Made it safely to Williams. It's snowing! Sleep well._

Sara read the message three times and shook her head. It was good to know that he was there safely, but a phone call would have been better. Not that she was surprised. Aside from the fact that he was likely busy, he probably was afraid she was sleeping. She had avoided calling him more than once in the years she had known him for fear of waking him.

She put the phone on the dresser. She'd send a message back later.

* * *

Sara had always been a good runner. Her long legs gave her a definite advantage when it came to running. When she was little, her father had told her repeatedly that she had to join the track team in high school so she could win a scholarship for college. She had spent her elementary school years practicing and waiting for her chance to run on the team and make her father proud. But, she had never joined. After her father's death, she had lost interest in a track scholarship.

But, she had not lost interest in running. She often spent her mornings jogging after work. For years, she had gone out alone. Now, she had a running partner.

Hank loved to run even more than Sara did. She had a feeling, as they sprinted the last few blocks together, that he was glad to have her living with him just because she took him running – something his "daddy" never did. Grissom took the dog for walks religiously, but a runner he was not.

"Okay," Sara said, slowing down and gasping to get her breath back. "Let's walk around the block once to cool down, then we'll go back inside."

Hank didn't seem thrilled with Sara's plan to stop running, but he did slow his steps to accommodate her slower pace. They walked around the block, then returned to the house.

Before Sara could open the door, however, they were stopped by a shriek of excitement.

"Hank!"

Sara just barely managed to hang on to Hank's leash as he fought to get to Lauren, his new favorite playmate. Kelly took off running after Lauren, who had bolted from the car and to Sara's front door.

"Lauren!" she yelled.

"Hank!" Lauren reached Sara and Hank and threw her arms around the dog.

"Hi," Sara said as Kelly joined them.

Kelly shook her head. "I am so sorry, Sara. I'm sure you'd rather not have her manhandling your dog."

"I think he likes it," Sara said with a grin, watching as Lauren patted Hank's head and he licked her face. "It's fine. Hank needs to play with someone his own age from time to time."

Kelly grinned. "How was Christmas?"

"Good," Sara replied. "Yours?"

"Oh, fine. This one made out like a bandit."

"I'm sure," Sara said with a grin.

"Between us, her grandparents and her aunts and uncles …" Kelly shook her head. "She's the only grandchild on both sides, so they tend to go a bit overboard." She glanced at her watch. "Lauren, say goodbye to Hank. We need to leave to pick up Daddy."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Is Tim's car in the shop?"

"No, he's just coming home from New York," Kelly explained. "He had to leave the day after Christmas for a seminar. His flight lands in a little under an hour." She smiled. "I teased that he planned the timing of that seminar on purpose so I'd have to put all Lauren's toys together by myself."

Sara laughed. "Gil just left last night to teach at class at Williams College," she offered. "So, it's just me and Hank for awhile."

Kelly raised her eyebrows. "An entire semester?"

"Oh, no, it's just a month," Sara said, suddenly struck by how much worse things could have been.

"Oh, that's not too terrible," Kelly said. "It's a shame they didn't plan it better. We could have been seminar widows together."

Sara forced a smile. The last thing she wanted was to think of herself as any kind of widow.

"Okay, sweetie, we really need to go," Kelly said, reaching down to grab Lauren's hand. "Say bye-bye to Hank and Sara."

"No," Lauren said, her lip already sliding out into a pout. "Wanna play with Hank."

"I know, honey, but we have to get Daddy," Kelly said. "Say bye-bye so we can go see Daddy."

Lauren looked thoughtful for a moment, as though weighing her options. Finally, she decided that Daddy would be more fun than Hank. "Bye-bye," she said cheerfully.

"Bye, sweetie," Sara said. "Have fun at the airport."

Kelly smiled. "Bye, Sara."

"Bye."

With her neighbors gone, Sara made her way into the house. She closed the door behind her and Hank and sighed.

"It could be so much worse," she said to the dog. "Kelly's right. He could be gone for an entire semester. A month…we can do a month."

She looked at their glittering Christmas tree, her eyes coming to rest on the engraved ornament he had bought for them. She swallowed hard, blinking back tears.

"It's just going to be so hard."


	78. Seeking Truth

A/N: Happy New Year! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 712, "Redrum."

* * *

_Seeking Truth_

Sara held her cell phone with shaking hands. She shook her head, realizing how ridiculous she was. She was a grown woman, not a high schooler. She should not be nervous to send a text message.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she began to tap out her message.

_Message to: Grissom_

_Glad you made it safely. Enjoy the snow!_

Sara read her message again and almost reluctantly hit send. It wasn't that she didn't want to communicate with him while he was gone. It was that she had no idea what to say. And, his message hadn't given her much to work with.

After sending the message, she put her phone down on the coffee table and looked around at the boxes. Steeling herself for a long day, she opened the first one.

Books. It was completely full of books.

"You can do this, Sara," she said. "You used to work in a library! If anyone can shelve books, it's you."

Buoyed up by the happy memories of her high school job, Sara dug into the first box. She knew that once she started, she wouldn't be able to stop until all their books were shelved.

It was a good thing she had the night off.

* * *

Grissom wound his scarf around his neck, smiling to himself. Sara always looked so adorable in her scarves. Maybe when he got home …

His smile widened as he reached up to run his fingers over his scruffy face. He had a feeling she'd be pleased to see his beard return.

He walked out into the snowy day, ready to begin his first class. He had only taken two steps from his front door when his phone beeped, indicating that he had a text message.

Pulling the phone from his pocket, he read the message from Sara. He smiled again. He certainly would enjoy the snow.

He took two more steps before he realized that he would enjoy it more if she were there to share it.

* * *

Working on sheer adrenaline, Sara managed to finish unpacking all their boxes by the end of the first week of Grissom's absence. She felt extremely accomplished as she broke down the last box to throw into the recycling.

She walked through the house, taking in all the changes she had made. She had organized their books, displayed their collectibles – Grissom had an amazing array of decorative items – finished unpacking their clothes and linens, and set up their home office space. She was pleased with what she had done. She hoped that Grissom would approve. If not … she was perfectly willing to let him reorganize on his own. She had done it once. She was not going to do it again.

She walked into the living room and looked at their tree. She sighed. It was the last thing on her to do list. She needed to undecorate the tree, store the decorations and somehow get the tree out of the house.

Just the thought was enough to drain her limited energy. Yawning, she turned back toward the bedroom. She could deal with the tree later.

* * *

"No, truly, you're wrong. We're predestined to do the things we do and to meet the people we meet. It's all about fate."

"How can you say that? Don't you realize how random life is?"

Grissom sighed and shook his head with a slight smile. He was sure that these two girls had the same argument on their way to and from his class every single day.

"Don't forget to do your reading, ladies," he said as they walked toward the door.

"Oh, we won't," Amy said.

Jenna, the other girl, rolled her eyes. "I'm sure Dr. Grissom was fated to give us homework the same night I have plans, right, Amy?"

"It's all part of the universe's scheme to teach you time management," Amy replied. "Don't you think so, Dr. Grissom?"

Grissom smiled. "I think that you both argue your points very well. And, I think that we find the best answers through well-thought-out questions. And, I think you'd better go before the janitorial staff asks you to leave."

He had learned his lesson the hard way on that one. After his first class, he had stayed in the classroom to get some work done. Fifteen minutes after the scheduled end of his class, a rather gruff custodian had appeared, asking him to leave so the cleaning crew could to its job. Grissom had left – and, since that day, made it a point to leave as soon as the last students were gone.

"Thanks, Dr. Grissom," Jenna said. "We'll see you later."

"Bye, ladies," he replied.

Once the girls were gone, Grissom packed up his things and stepped outside. He was surprised to find that fresh snow was falling. Grinning, he turned his face up into the swirling flakes. He had forgotten how much he loved winter; the seminar was doing a good job of reminding him. He returned to his apartment to leave his bag, then went for a walk in the new snow. He'd been meaning to explore the wooded area near his apartment since his arrival. He had finally found the perfect opportunity.

A sense of contentment filled him as he started walking. He smiled slightly, thinking that he had made the right decision in coming to Williams. It was just the break he needed. He was sure that he'd return to Vegas refreshed and recharged.

Yet … as he continued walking, a strange, nagging feeling nibbled at him. Something wasn't right.

After working so many years in law enforcement, his first instinct was to tense and look around him. He was as alone as he had been when he had stepped out his door.

Trying to shrug off the feeling, he continued his walk.

After walking another ten yards, he noticed something on a tree branch. Stepping closer, he smiled as he recognized the cocoon.

"_Lycaena phlaeas_," he murmured. "An American Copper."

The butterflies were gorgeous with their orange, black and gray wings. He smiled, remembering how Sara had exclaimed over the one he had mounted in his office.

"_This one is just beautiful!"_

_Grissom smiled. "Lindsey calls it my 'Halloween butterfly.'"_

_Sara smiled, but rolled her eyes. "Just because we stole its colors for a holiday doesn't mean that it needs to become the Halloween mascot. I don't think it would like that."_

"_It's good to know that it has a champion."_

_She gave him a smile. "What can I say? I have a soft spot for beautiful things."_

_He touched her cheek, letting his fingers slide back into her hair. "So do I."_

Shaking his head slightly to clear it after such a memory, he was finally able to name the nagging feeling that had followed him through the woods. He was lonely. Not just _lonely_ – he missed Sara.

He looked back at the cocoon and made his decision in an instant. She'd love it and the butterfly that would appear. Taking out his pocket knife, he cut the branch from the tree. He'd send it to her.

With his gift safely in hand, he returned to his apartment with a smile on his face.

* * *

"Sanders."

"I need your help."

"Okay. Are you at a scene? I'll meet you there."

"Um … no, Greg, I'm not at a scene," Sara said hesitantly. "I'm … I'm at home."

"Okay," Greg said slowly. "How can I help?"

"I need to get this Christmas tree out of my house, and I can't do it alone," she said in a rush. "It's too heavy for me to lift, and I can't drag it across the floor without ruining it. Can you come over and help me get rid of it?"

Greg laughed. "Sure, Sara. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Um …"

"What now?" Greg almost groaned.

"I moved since the last time you were at my house."

"Oh," Greg said, feeling a bit relieved. "Where do you live now?"

Sara gave him her new address, along with detailed directions.

"Okay," Greg said. "I guess I'll be there in twenty minutes, then."

"Thank you so much for this," Sara said. "I owe you. Really."

Greg laughed again. "How big is this tree, Sara? Should I bring a dolly?"

"No, smart ass," Sara said, laughing. "I just need a big, strong, burly man to help me."

"Well, in that case, you've called the right person. I'll see you soon."

"Thanks, Greg," she said again. "I'll see you when you get here."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Sara put her phone on the table and sighed. She hated admitting that she needed help. And, she hated the idea of bringing one of her coworkers into the home she and Grissom shared. It was just … too close.

"It's just Greg," she whispered. "He's known forever, and he hasn't said anything to anyone. He'll keep it quiet … if he even notices that Grissom lives here, too."

Even so, she still felt nervous as she waited for Greg to arrive.

Twenty minutes after ending her conversation with him, Greg knocked on Sara's door. Hank ran for the door with booming barks. Sara squealed and ran after him. She had forgotten to warn Greg that she now had a dog.

"Hi," she said, opening the door with one hand while the other clutched Hank's collar. "Sorry about him. I forgot to warn you."

"No, it's great!" Greg said enthusiastically as he walked into the house and closed the door behind him. "Hey, buddy!"

Sara laughed as Greg dropped to his knees to play with her dog. She released her hold on Hank's collar.

"What's his name?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Hank," Sara replied.

"Hey, Hank," Greg said, rubbing his belly. "You're such a great dog! How did Sara get so lucky – hey, wait a minute! _Hank_?"

"I didn't pick it," Sara said, knowing exactly what Greg meant. "Grissom had him before we …"

Greg straightened up and looked around the house. "Sara. Why do you have Grissom's dog?"

"Um…" Sara drew a deep breath. "He's my dog now, too, Greg."

Greg's eyes widened. "You mean, you and Grissom …?"

Sara nodded, her face flushing a deep shade of red. "Can you please never mention this at work? If anyone else finds out …"

"Never," Greg said empathetically. "I know what would happen, and I don't even want to think about it. I've kept your secret, Sara, and I'll continue to keep it."

Sara released the breath she hadn't even been aware of holding. "Thanks, Greg."

He grinned. "No problem." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them against one another. "So, where is this tree?"

"Right here."

Greg followed Sara into the living room and looked at the bare tree. "Well, I'm not going to lie – after I talked to you, I expected something bigger."

Sara smiled. "Sorry. Next time, I'll drag a redwood in here just so you can show me how manly you are by taking it out."

"Oh, shut up," Greg said, grinning. "Go stand there. I'll tip the tree forward, and you grab the top of it as it falls."

"Got it."

Between the two of them, Sara and Greg managed to dispose of the Christmas tree. They walked back into the house together, celebrating their combined strength.

"Thanks again, Greg," Sara said as he prepared to leave. "I never could have done that without you."

"I'm glad I could help," Greg said. "I think it's awful Grissom left you alone to do something like that."

"Greg," Sara said, suddenly weary, "don't. Please, just … don't."

Greg's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Sara. You miss him a lot, don't you?"

She nodded sadly. "More than I thought possible."

Greg looked at her for a moment, then pulled her into a tight hug. She was surprised, but hugged him back, grateful for the friendship and support he provided.

"You are amazing," Greg said as he pulled back. "Grissom realizes how lucky he is, doesn't he?"

Sara smiled, flushing. "I'm pretty lucky, too."

Greg shook his head. "Not as lucky as he is. I don't see him trying to get rid of a Christmas tree on his own."

Sara chuckled. "I'm sure he always did it on his own before he had me to help him. I doubt he even thought about the fact that he was leaving it here for me to handle."

"Yeah, well …" Greg trailed off, thinking that he would put himself in a truly awful place if he started bashing his friend's boyfriend to her – particularly when that boyfriend also happened to be his boss. "I should get home," he said. "I need to change before work."

"Okay," Sara agreed. "I'll see you at the lab, then."

"See you there." Greg stepped outside, then paused and turned to face Sara again. "And, Sara, listen … if there's anything you need while Grissom's gone … if you need me …" He paused and drew a breath, trying to collect his thoughts. "Anytime you need a big, strong man … just call."

Sara smiled, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Thanks, Greg. You are just the best friend a girl could ask for."

He smiled a rather embarrassed smile, and turned to walk to his car.

Sara grinned as she watched him leave. He truly was a wonderful friend … and, she did like embarrassing him from time to time. It kept him humble.

* * *

Sara sighed as she walked into the lab. _Two weeks down_. They were halfway though the month – halfway through Grissom's seminar, and halfway through their time apart.

During those two weeks, Sara had only received one text message from Grissom. Although she had been happy to know that he had made it to his destination safely, a bit more information would have been welcome. A text … a phone call … an email … There were so many ways to communicate, and he had chosen silence.

She shook her head as she walked toward the reception area. She shouldn't have been surprised. It was _Grissom_, after all, and –

"Sara, wait!"

Sara stopped walking, her train of thought totally derailed by Judy's summons back to the desk. She turned around and saw Judy pushing a box across the desk toward her.

"This came in for you earlier today," she said.

"Oh," Sara said, surprised. She rarely received packages at home, let alone at work. She glanced at the box, immediately recognizing Grissom's bold handwriting. A thrill shot through her; she hoped that she managed to keep a neutral face. "Thanks, Judy."

"You're welcome."

Picking up her package – it felt very light – Sara continued toward the locker room. She found herself stopping again, this time in confusion as she saw Keppler, the new day shift supervisor who was training with them while Grissom was away, putting plastic sheeting over the windows and doors to the garage. Although he smiled at her, she frowned.

Catherine came around the corner, dressed in the coveralls that signaled she was likely helping their new coworker with his project.

"What's going on?" Sara asked, nodding toward the garage.

"Um," Catherine said, hesitating as she searched for an answer. "Nothing I can talk about," she finally finished.

Sara's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Keep me posted on the 419," Catherine said quickly. "Greg's going to meet you at the scene."

"Okay," Sara said slowly. She wanted to question Catherine further, but her acting supervisor ducked into the garage with Keppler before she could ask anything.

Sara stared at the closed door with a million questions running through her head. Hodges appeared behind her.

"Ten to one it's Internal Affairs," he said. "I got a vibe off Keppler the minute he blew in … always with the suit." He paused and stepped to her other side. "You got any dirty laundry, I would use bleach."

Sara frowned. Clutching her package all the tighter, she continued to the locker room.

She opened her locker, planning to put the box inside and open it at home. But, looking down at the package, she knew she couldn't do it. She had to know what he had sent her. She looked back at the door, making sure no one was following her into the room. Sure she was quite alone, she sat down on the bench.

Taking out her pocket knife, she slit the tape across the top of the box and pulled back the flaps. A layer of packing paper met her eyes. She eagerly lifted it up and found a branch with a cocoon nestled on it. Smiling, she plucked it out of the box and held it up, rotating it as she studied it. It was such a Grissom thing to send her.

She looked back into the box, and pulled up the bottom layer of paper. She found the bottom of the box staring up at her. She shook her head in disbelief.

_No note. He didn't send me a note._

Sara's heart sank as she looked at her cocoon again. It was such a Grissom thing to send … and, such a Grissom way to do it.

"Date an entomologist, get cocoons," she sighed.

But, it did show that he was thinking of her. He had gone through all the trouble to take the cocoon from its natural habitat, to pack it and to ship it to her. He obviously wanted her to have it – very much. It must be something special.

Deciding to look at the positive side of her gift rather than dwelling on the fact that it hadn't arrived with a heartfelt card, Sara shoved the box into her locker and took the cocoon to his office. She was sure that he'd have an appropriate place to store it somewhere amid his insects.

She found an unused terrarium – she was fairly certain that it had once housed a spider who had since died – and slid the branch and cocoon inside. After making sure that it wouldn't fall, she left it alone.

She had a crime scene to process.

* * *

Sara was never sure if everything happened in double time or slow motion. All she knew for sure was that one minute, she and Greg were in the layout room, staring at pictures of their victim's apartment, and the next, they both were receiving urgent text messages from Nick telling them to meet him and Warrick outside the back lab entrance.

"What's going on?" Sara asked.

"I don't know," Greg said. "Do you think it's about Zamesca?"

"He was fairly upset about that," Sara said. "Of course, if I was working the murder of a councilman who was gunned down by a drug kingpin who is now in hiding, I'd be upset, too."

Greg smiled. "No, you'd be out hunting him down like a commando."

"Thanks, Greg, for that vote of confidence."

Greg frowned. "Wait, I thought they got someone else for Zamesca's murder? Didn't some drug dealer confess? The same one who killed Holstein? That case Warrick's been working with Catherine and Keppler that's freakily similar to the Zamesca murder? Simon's innocent."

"Yeah, but last I heard, Nick wasn't convinced." Sara shook her head. "Come on. We'd better get outside before Nick thinks we're not showing."

"Outside," Greg said, shaking his head. "Nick has lost it. We'd better get our jackets on the way."

"You know, I didn't bring a warm jacket," Sara said, retrieving her denim jacket from her locker. "I didn't think I'd be playing outside today."

"No, me either." Greg grinned as they walked down the hall. "So, how cold to you think it is? Cold enough for snow?"

"Yeah, Greg, definitely," Sara said sarcastically. "We're going to walk out into a winter wonderland."

Greg laughed. "You're always so negative."

Sara grinned. "I prefer realistic."

They reached the door, which Greg opened for Sara, letting in a blast of cold air. Nick and Warrick were already standing outside, waiting for them.

"Uh, it's freezing," Sara said as they joined their colleagues. "Why are we having a meeting outside?"

"Because Catherine and Keppler are in there," Nick said.

Sara looked at him in surprise. She had never seen Nick so serious – or so upset.

"Have you guys been listening to Hodges?" Greg asked with a grin.

Sara turned to him, caught between smiling at the joke and warning him that Nick was in no mood for humor.

"No," Nick said, "and, this isn't about Keppler being IA, anyway. This is about Catherine having a false confession and standing by it."

Sara stared at Nick in shock. To accuse Catherine of something like that …

"You'd better be able to back that one up, man," Warrick said, his own face deadly serious.

"Zamesca knew Sara and Greg's vic," Nick said. "He's dead, she's dead, same drugs were found at both scenes. And, then, those same drugs showed up at your crime scene?"

"Could have come from the same supplier," Warrick said.

"We see that all the time," Greg added.

"I don't think it's a coincidence," Nick said.

Sara suddenly remembered a conversation she had had with Henry earlier in the day. "You know, Catherine …" she trailed off and looked around to make sure no one was listening to them. "Catherine ordered Henry to step out of his lab without putting drug evidence away."

"Why would she do that?" Greg asked. It was against all lab procedures.

"I did see Keppler looking at Zamesca's file yesterday," Warrick said. "I didn't think anything strange about it then, but now …"

"Okay, so," Sara said, again looking around and lowering her voice, "maybe there is an IA investigation."

"I can't find the Holstein evidence," Nick said, dropping an absolute bombshell.

"What?" Sara asked in shock.

Nick nodded.

"Catherine put it in the temporary locker," Warrick said.

Sara's mouth dropped open. The temporary locker was always locked – only the shift supervisors and their assistants had keys.

"Yeah, why didn't she put it where it belongs?" Nick asked angrily.

"The Holstein bullet was a little bit _too_ clean," Warrick said. "And, Keppler didn't seem at all concerned about it. He said that we would see it at autopsy."

"Well, it's kinda hard to have an autopsy when you don't have a body, man," Nick said. "I talked to Doc Robbins. He's still trying to track it down. And the mortuary has no record of Catherine's phone call whatsoever."

Sara, whose mouth had yet to close, stared between the three men. "Do we have access to _any_ of the Holstein evidence?"

"We've got the car," Warrick said. Then, he tipped his head back and smiled a sarcastic smile. "Catherine sent it to the impound."

"Well, at least we know _where_ it is," Greg said.

"All right, that's it," Nick said. "We're a team now, the four of us. We can't trust Catherine, and we can't trust Keppler. I'm serious. I'm gonna run with this one."

"I'll run with you," Warrick said. He looked at Sara. "You?"

Sara looked from Warrick to Nick. These two had had her back more times than she wanted to think about. They were two of her best friends. How could she let them down now?

"I'm in," she said, looking straight at Nick.

He gave her a slight smile and a nod.

All three of them turned to Greg. He looked a bit terrified as he gave a nod and a shrug.

Nick nodded and winked at him.

"Okay," Sara said. "Where do we go from here?"

"I'll go to the impound lot and get the car – or, as much evidence from it as I can," Nick said.

Warrick shook his head. "I don't know, man … how are you going to get around that Rottweiler they've got guarding the place? He's not gonna let you in without paperwork."

"I'll get past him," Nick said. "What we need is to find a way into the temporary locker. I wish we had a key."

"We could pick the lock," Greg suggested helpfully.

"Yeah, that'll work," Warrick said sarcastically.

Sara bit her lip and made a decision. They were a team, and she was going to pull with her team. "I can get the key."

Nick's eyebrows shot up. "Gonna lift it from Catherine's purse?"

"No," she said. "I, uh, I know where Grissom keeps his."

"Oh," Nick said. "Okay, great. Warrick …"

"Yeah, I'll go with Sara to look at the evidence," Warrick said.

"What should I do?" Greg asked.

"Keep working our case," Sara said. "As long as one of us is working it, Catherine won't notice that the rest of us are on a totally different mission."

"For now," Nick added. "You'll have to help me process the evidence from the car when I bring it back."

Greg nodded.

"Okay," Nick said. "So, we're ready?"

"Let's do this," Warrick said.

Nick left to go to the impound lot, and the others walked back inside.

"I'll meet you in the locker," Warrick said quietly.

Sara nodded, feeling her nerves mount. The idea of stealing the key from Grissom's desk was not appealing.

_If he were here, he'd give it to me._

She shook her head. That's wasn't entirely true. If Grissom were there, she wouldn't have needed it.

Warrick split off to go to the temporary locker, and Sara and Greg continued down the hall together. Sara glanced at Greg. He looked a little green.

"Greg, you're doing the right thing," Sara said. "I know it seems crazy, but, what choice do we have? What Catherine and Keppler are doing…"

"I know," Greg said. "Believe me, I know. It's just … scary."

"Yeah," Sara said quietly. "It is."

They reached the layout room. Greg gave her a lopsided smile and disappeared inside. Sara took a fortifying breath, and went to Grissom's office.

The door was open, as she had anticipated. Mail littered his desk; that could be used to her advantage.

She walked around the desk and bent over as though she were looking at the mail. Glancing up to make sure no one was going to walk in on her, she opened the top drawer. She reached beneath a rodent skull to pull the key from its hiding place. Heart beating madly, she picked up a stack of mail and slid the key into the hand that held it.

Feeling like a criminal, Sara carried the mail and key through the lab to the temporary locker. She knocked on the door before opening it. Warrick was there alone, talking on the phone. She turned the mail in her hand so that he could see the key.

"You know, Sara's here. She has the key. Gotta go."

Sara closed the door behind her. "You know, I really hate deceiving people," she said, already putting down the mail and moving to unlock the locker. "Because, eventually, you get what you give."

"I hate being deceived," Warrick replied.

With a glance back at Warrick, Sara opened the locker. The Holstein evidence was there in front of them.

"Yes!" Warrick said, pulling out the first box. "Anything I collected, we ignore."

Sara pulled out the second box. They opened them and started sifting through the evidence.

They had been deceived.

* * *

All the evidence in the Holstein case had been fabricated. The entire _case_ had been fabricated – and Catherine and Keppler had been the ones to fabricate it.

Keppler explained that it was reverse forensics. They had created a case that mirrored the Zamesca case, and allowed a snitch to take the fall for their second "murder." He had confessed to both murders, which made Simon, their fugitive, think that he was in the clear. He had returned to life in the open, and was promptly arrested.

Their marvelous plan hit a snag, however. The Undersheriff had failed to notify the DA of their plans. Completely confused by what was real and what was fabricated, she had refused to file charges.

Sara, Nick, Warrick and Greg had never been so insulted. They sat in the break room with Catherine and Keppler, listening to them explain what they had done, with looks of mutinous anger on their faces.

"He was a fugitive," Keppler explained. "The only way to get him to show his face was to make him think he was off the hook."

"And, your only option was to fabricate evidence and make me process it?" Warrick asked.

"How could you think we wouldn't figure it out?" Greg asked. "It's kinda what we do."

"I understand how you all feel," Catherine said. "I am sorry. I did not have a choice."

"We trust you with our lives, Catherine," Nick said. "You could have trusted us with this."

Catherine looked a bit as though she had been slapped. She turned to her final teammate. "Sara?"

Sara paused. "If I have something to say to you, Catherine, I'm going to say it in private," she said. She glanced at Keppler. "No offense."

Catherine gave them the task of proving that Simon was guilty of killing Sara and Greg's vic – a likely scenario. Despite the fact that they could not file charges for Zamesca's murder, Brass was holding him for twenty-four hours, giving them as much time as he could to prove that he was guilty of the second murder.

Sara and Greg felt they were being sent back to work. Nick felt he was being slapped across the face.

Everyone filed out of the break room until only Sara and Catherine were left. Catherine looked at Sara.

"Private enough for you?"

"Should we do this now?" Sara asked.

Catherine nodded. "Please."

"Catherine, I have always had a great deal of professional respect for you," Sara began. "Always. But, something like this …"

"Sara, we explained why we did it. We explained why we had to leave you out of it."

Sara shook her head. "Then, let me explain something to you. Warrick feels like you wasted his time. Greg feels like you underestimated his abilities. And, Nick feels like you can't trust him – and, in our business, and _especially_ to someone like Nick, trust is everything."

"And, you?" Catherine asked. "How do you feel?"

Sara looked at her for a long minute. "Like you tried to tear apart a team that Grissom has spent years building."

"Whoa," Catherine exclaimed, holding up her hand. "That was _never_ my intention."

"Well, regardless of your intention, keeping secrets, deceiving people … you should know that never works."

"I know," Catherine said. "Believe me, I know. It clearly didn't work out this time." She sighed and looked away for a moment, then back at Sara. "I can't believe you would think that I would do anything to hurt this team."

"The team is fine," Sara said. "How they feel about working for you remains to be seen."

Her phone beeped. She picked it up and read the message with Greg's summons to the layout room.

"I've got to go," she said. "Just … I think that you should think about _all_ the consequences next time, Catherine. You know very well that we can't go into something finding a way to make our desired outcome work."

Sara walked out of the room, leaving a shocked Catherine staring after her.

* * *

"Hey," Sara said, walking down the hall with her jacket in hand.

"Hi," Warrick said. "Leaving?"

"Yeah, finally. This has been … weird."

"I know," Warrick agreed. He shook his head. "I think Nick's taking it pretty hard."

"Where is he? Do you have time to go out? We could take him for a drink –"

"I already suggested it," Warrick said. "He said he just wanted to go home."

Sara shook her head in disbelief. "He's taking this really badly. I mean, not that I'm thrilled with it, but … It is what it is, you know?"

"Yeah," Warrick said. He ran his hand over his face. "I'm gonna go home, Sara. You walking out?"

"Yeah."

They walked to the parking structure together, and separated at their cars. Sara drove home, barely hearing the radio. Her thoughts swirled around like leaves in a breeze.

When she got home, she took a long shower. Feeling much calmer once she was showered and in her pajamas, she curled up in bed. She grabbed Grissom's pillow and hugged it tightly.

"You wouldn't have done it," she whispered. "You wouldn't have deceived us like that. You would have found another way."

Sighing, she had to admit that the plan had been rather ingenious. If it had worked, they probably would have wanted to know more about how it was done … and laid less blame.

Sara reached for the phone on her nightstand and pressed a few buttons. Within seconds, it was ringing.

"Stokes."

"Nicky, we need to talk," Sara said. "You weren't sleeping, were you?"

"No," he said. "I wasn't. And, I doubt I will for awhile."

"Yeah, Nick, that's why I called," Sara said. "I've been thinking about this all night, and … I think we may have been a bit harsh with Catherine."

"How can you say that, Sara? She pulled one over on us! She couldn't trust us enough to let us know what she was doing!"

"I know that," Sara said.

"Grissom wouldn't have done it," Nick said before Sara could continue. "You know he'd never do anything like that."

"Probably not," Sara admitted. "But, it was Catherine's call, not Grissom's. And, she made a decision that we don't agree with. It's not the first time that's happened. But, that doesn't mean that she doesn't trust us. She was _protecting_ us. Right now, she and Keppler are the ones taking the heat for this. Not us. We don't have to answer for anything."

"Yeah, you're right," Nick said.

"She's a great CSI, Nick. You know that."

"I know."

"She's had all our backs so many times," Sara continued. "We can't hold this one thing against her forever."

"You're right," Nick said again. "What about Keppler?"

Sara sighed. "I don't know. Let's give him a chance, though. I can remember being the new kid on this team. It's such a tight group … it can be intimidating."

"I guess that's probably true," Nick said, his smile coming through the phone. "Okay, Sara, I get your point. Catherine wasn't trying to hurt us – even though she pretty much showed zero confidence in us."

"Nicky …"

"What? I won't hold it against her forever. Does that mean I can't be mad now?"

Sara grinned. "You can be as mad as you want … as long as you can work with her tonight."

"I'll be able to do that."

"Good." Sara yawned. "Okay, Nicky, I'm going to get some sleep. You try to, too, okay?"

"I will," Nick promised. "And, Sar?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

She smiled. "You're welcome. Good night, Nicky."

"Good night."


	79. The Strongest Emotion

A/N: Okay, so, I have a feeling that you're going to think I'm nuts by the time you get to the end of this chapter. But, if you've seen the episode, it makes sense to take it where I did. And, if you need confirmation that this particular event may have occurred… well, I've got some good back up for my theory. I'm working with something that David Rambo said in response to questions put together by YTDAW.

I really, really hope you like this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 714, "Meet Market."

* * *

_The Strongest Emotion_

Grissom's alarm went off, pulling him from a dream. He stretched one hand to his nightstand to turn it off; the other reached across the bed for Sara. His eyes opened as he realized that his fingers weren't touching anything other than a cold pillow.

He stared at the empty space beside him for a moment, remembering where he was. He was in Massachusetts. Sara was in Nevada.

He exhaled and closed his eyes again. He could almost see her, arms curled around her pillow, back pressed against his side. He could almost feel the silkiness of her hair as he let it slip through his fingers and the warmth of her cheek as he kissed it to wake her.

Sighing, he opened his eyes. She wasn't there. And he missed her.

Terribly.

* * *

"So, yet another homicide," Warrick said as he and Sara arrived at their crime scene. "Think we've got another double?"

"I hope not," Sara replied as she climbed out of the car. "That last one took forever to solve."

"Are you worried that I'll bring down your solve rate?" Warrick teased.

"No," Sara said, giving him a teasing once-over. "Just my efficiency."

Warrick laughed. "Come on. I see Brass up there."

Sara and Warrick quickly found themselves investigating the death of Margo Dorton, the wife of a wealthy homebuilder. She had been killed in her own living room, dressed as though she were going out. Sara and Warrick tossed out theories as to which spouse had been having the affair that ended her life, but Brass's investigation only turned up clues of a happy marriage.

They were able to determine that she had been bludgeoned to death with a champagne bottle, and that she had gone out – the wiped down bottle and valet receipt they found in her purse told them that much.

"So, it's back to the lab, then?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Warrick agreed. "We'll get Hodges started on our samples, and see if we can track down a location with that valet stub."

Sara grinned as they packed up and walked back to the car. "Look how early it is! Aren't you glad we don't have a double?"

Warrick laughed. "We'll get your efficiency rating right back where it belongs with this one."

* * *

"I just don't see how you can think that there is _no_ reason behind _anything_ that happens."

"And, I don't see how you can think that there is!"

Grissom smiled slightly. Amy and Jenna were at it again. He glanced up as they took their seats, but found his attention distracted almost immediately by the girl who walked into the room behind them. She was a tall brunette. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Grissom's heart skipped a beat. _Sara. _He was on the verge of calling out to her when she turned and he saw her face.

It wasn't Sara. It was Morgan, another of his students. He seemed to remember her with blond hair during their last class. She must have colored it.

Sighing, he looked back down at his notes. He couldn't believe how much he missed Sara. He could close his eyes and picture her standing next to him, smiling as she teased him about his newly regrown beard. But, she wasn't there. He had never felt so lonely in his life.

* * *

While Warrick learned that the pink hairs they found on their victim were from a wig and that the rather gross-looking substance he had found on the toilet was vomit, Sara managed to track down the location of the valet that had issued the receipt. She and Warrick took off for the Over Under, hoping to find more information.

They were both stunned to walk into a strip club.

"Explain to me why Margo was in this place watching women take off their clothes," Sara said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Maybe this was the husband's scene," Warrick suggested. "She could have followed him here."

"I thought his alibi checked out."

"Still…maybe she knew this is where he was going, and wanted to see what it's all about."

"Maybe," Sara conceded. "Let's flash his picture around."

While no one they talked to recognized Margo's husband, they were able to find the owner of the pink wig that had left hairs on Margo's dress. The woman, a dancer who went by the name of Cotton Candy, admitted to beating up Margo, but claimed she was justified – Margo was trying to steal her fiancé.

"Why would Margo Dorton be hanging out here with your fiancé?" Sara asked.

"He works upstairs," Cotton Candy replied.

"Upstairs?" Warrick repeated.

"Honey, they don't call this the Over Under for nothing."

"What's your fiancé's name?" Sara asked.

"Jesse," she said as though Sara should have somehow known that bit of information.

"Take her downtown," Warrick said. "We're going upstairs."

"Are you serious? I didn't do anything!"

Warrick rolled his eyes and Sara shook her head in disbelief. The police escorted her away, and Warrick turned to Sara.

"Well, are you ready to meet the fiancé?"

"Oh, yeah," Sara said with a grin.

They reached the second floor and walked down a long hallway. Private rooms were on both sides of them, all with at least two people sitting at tables together. The final room they saw held a woman who was looking through a book full of pictures while a man looked on.

"Is this a restaurant?" Sara asked uncertainly.

"If it is, I'm scared of the menu."

Sara gave him a smile.

"The busboy looking like he's in charge of stocking the champagne," Warrick said, looking farther down the hall. "I'm gonna have a word with him."

"Okay," Sara agreed.

"Would you like a meet book, or do you have a steady host?"

Sara nearly jumped at the question. She turned to see a tall man standing beside her, holding a thick book in his hands.

"Uh, actually, it's my first time," Sara said, struggling not to laugh. "What, exactly, goes on here?"

"This is a host club," he explained. "A place where men entertain women. It's the first of its kind in Las Vegas. They started in Japan." He extended the book to her. "Take your pick. Hosts get paid by the bottle. There is a two bottle minimum. Bottles range from $50 to $5000."

"What's a five thousand dollar bottle of champagne taste like?" Sara asked, looking up from the book full of men's pictures to smile at him.

"Oh, we only sell one brand of champagne. It's the host attached to the bottle that determines price."

"Oh," Sara said with a nod. "Everything is legal in Clark County."

"Miss, we don't sell sex here," he said, looking insulted by the implication.

"What do you sell?" Sara asked, perhaps more confused than when she and Warrick had stepped upstairs.

"A relationship. Isn't that what most women want?"

"I don't know," Sara said. "But, I know what I want. I want Jesse."

"Who doesn't?" he asked with a smile. He took the book back from her. "Let me see if he's available."

Sara only had to wait a moment before Jesse came out to meet her.

"Just off work, huh?" he asked, taking in her clothes.

"Just on, actually," Sara said. She held up her identification. "Sara Sidle, Crime Lab."

"Oh," Jesse said, looking surprised. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you know this woman?" she asked, showing him the picture.

"Oh," he said with a smile. "Lady Dorton. Yeah, she's one of my relationships."

"Could I ask you a few questions about her?"

"Okay," he said. "Um, I don't like to talk about my relationships out here. Let's take is someplace a little more intimate, yeah?"

"Okay," Sara agreed.

She was more than a little surprised when he took her hand to lead her into a private room.

Surprised…but, she held his hand during their walk down the hall.

How was it that she had gone for years without any romantic involvement, and now, after Grissom had only been gone for three weeks, she found herself craving his touch? Jesse was a poor substitute, but still…

It felt nice to have someone hold her hand.

* * *

Grissom walked into a coffee shop for something to help him warm up after a walk across the campus. After nearly a month, the weather was beginning to wear on him.

"Dr. Grissom!"

Grissom turned to see Amy and Jenna seated together at a table, both with books open and large drinks in front of them. He smiled and waved, then stepped up to order his drink.

"Dr. Grissom, join us," Jenna invited as he made to walk out with his drink.

Grissom smiled slightly, remembering the last time he had had coffee with a student. Shrugging, he took the open chair at their table.

"Doing your homework?" he asked, indicating their open books.

"Yes," Amy said. "Thanks for giving us that paper, by the way."

Grissom smiled. "It is what we teachers do."

Jenna put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. "Tell us more about yourself, Dr. Grissom. We don't know anything about you!"

"Well, that's not true," he said. "You know I'm a CSI from Las Vegas. You know I'm an entomologist. You know quite a bit about me."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Something beyond the professional would be nice."

Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Watch it, ladies. We are dealing with a teacher / student relationship here."

Amy smiled. "We don't mean it like _that_, Dr. Grissom. We just wanted to know if you're married and have children."

"Oh," Grissom said. "No, I'm not, and no, I don't."

"Oh," Jenna said, looking disappointed. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Yes," he said, feeling his face break into a smile.

Amy and Jenna exchanged a glance and giddy smiles of their own.

"What's her name?" Amy asked.

"Sara," he said.

"Sara," Jenna repeated. "Is she beautiful?"

"Very."

"You love her, don't you?" Amy asked, grinning.

Grissom opened his mouth and closed it again. He wasn't sure what shocked him more: the forthrightness of the question, or his own surprise at how he wanted to answer it.

"You don't have to answer that," Jenna said with a glowing smile. "We can tell that you do. It's obvious."

Grissom felt his face flush a deep shade of red. "Well. I've always thought I had a good poker face."

"Not when it comes to Sara," Amy said. "How does she feel about you being here?"

"She's … She took it well."

"She must love you, too, then," Jenna said. She glanced at her watch and squeaked. "Am! We're going to be late for class!"

Amy looked at her own watch and jumped up from her seat. "Thanks for stopping to chat, Dr. Grissom!" she said as they shoved their books into their bags. "It's been fun."

"And make sure you ask Sara to marry you!" Jenna called as they darted for the door.

Grissom stared after them, willing his cheeks to return to their normal color.

They were right, of course. He did love Sara. He loved her so, so much. He had never felt about anyone the way he felt about her.

He had to tell her. But, to call her … to tell her over the phone … it just seemed too sterile. There had to be a better way.

He'd write her a letter. Something that she could hold in her hand … tangible proof of his love.

His decision made, he drained the last of his coffee. He needed to get back to his apartment to start writing.

* * *

Jesse gave Sara plenty of information about his job, explaining that Margo had picked him out of the meet book. From there, they began a "relationship" that centered around his ability to make her happy. He explained that in their business, the hosts did nothing more than please the women by sweeping them off their feet. While Sara was not convinced that she would be willing to pay to be swept off her feet, Jesse asserted that plenty of other women were – he juggled twenty-five "relationships" at a time.

He did not, however, go home with the women. Sex signaled the end of the relationship – at that point, there was nothing more that he could give to the women.

Jesse was shocked when Sara told him that Margo had been killed. He latched on to the fact that she had also asked him about her fight with Cotton Candy.

"You think Cotton Candy killed Margo?" he asked.

"What do you think?" Sara asked.

"Oh … I wouldn't know."

"Well, Jesse," Sara said as she stood to leave, "I'm, uh, sorry for your loss."

Jesse did look rather pathetic as she got up. She frowned slightly.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I'll be fine."

Sara gave him a sympathetic smile and left him alone. She found Warrick waiting for her in the hallway.

"Hey," he said. "Where have you been?"

"Being swept off my feet," she said.

Warrick chuckled. "Some business, isn't it?"

"Is it a bad thing that stuff like this surprises me a little less every time?"

"Nah," Warrick said. "It just means you're becoming a native."

"A native?" Sara repeated. "I thought you were only a native of the place where you were born."

"How many people, aside from Catherine and me, were actually born in Vegas?"

Sara laughed. "Good point."

"So, what did you think of the 'fiancé?'" he asked. "Do you like him for this? Or did he pin it on Cotton Candy?"

"Cotton Candy is one of his 'relationships,'" Sara replied. "He said that the girls do often get jealous of one another, so the cat fight didn't surprise him. He didn't seem convinced that she'd have it in her to kill Margo, though."

"Do you think he did it?"

"Why?" Sara asked. "She's spending thousands just to sit and talk to him. Why kill her?"

"Fair enough." Warrick ran his hands over his face. "We're getting nowhere fast. There goes your efficiency rating."

Sara grinned. "I'm sure we'll be able to make up the time eventually."

* * *

Grissom stared at the blank sheet of paper forever. Finally, he began to write.

_Sara,_

_Our parting was awkward. I don't know why I find it so difficult to express my feelings to you. Even though we're far apart, I can see you as vividly as if you were here with me. I said I'll miss you, and I do. Shakespeare can express my feelings better than I …_

He looked down at the open book of Shakespeare in front of him and smiled. It was absolutely perfect.

_As Shakespeare more aptly wrote my sentiment in Sonnet #47 …_

_Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,  
And each doth good turns now unto the other:  
When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,  
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,  
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,  
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;  
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,  
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:  
So, either by thy picture or my love,  
Thy self away, art present still with me;  
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,  
And I am still with them, and they with thee;  
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight  
Awakes my heart, to heart's and eyes' delight._

Grissom read it over twice. Yes, the sonnet expressed his sentiments perfectly.

He stared at the paper for a long moment, knowing that he needed to close his letter. Finally, knowing that there was nothing more that he could say, he signed his name and slid the folded paper into an envelope. He wrote Sara's name on the front of it, along with the street number of their new house. He started to write the street name, but stopped.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't send her something like this. She deserved to hear him say the words, not to read them like this, when he was across the country.

He put the envelope into the book of Shakespeare, and closed the heavy tome on it. He'd give her the letter when he got home – when he could tell her, in person, how he felt.

* * *

After spending so much time talking with Jesse about being swept off her feet, Sara found herself wanting desperately to talk to Grissom. She smiled at the thought. He didn't exactly sweep her off her feet in the sense that Jesse meant – there weren't many grand gestures or candlelit dinners. But, just being with him, talking to him, loving him … it was more than enough.

Sara looked at her watch. It was late enough in Massachusetts that she could call him, but something made her hold back. She didn't want to bother him. He could be teaching or even doing research.

Instead, she went into his office. Just seeing the cocoon would make her feel close to him.

His office, she discovered, wasn't empty. Keppler was there, bent over to study the miniatures that Grissom had locked into cases before his departure.

"Hi," Sara said as she entered the office. "What are you doing?"

"Just looking," he said, standing up and indicating the miniature in front of him.

"What do you think?"

"Meticulous … obsessive. He definitely knows his way around a modeling kit."

"Grissom didn't make those," Sara said, realizing what he was thinking.

"No?" he asked in surprise. "Hm. Fits the profile. Bugs in bottles … Darwin desk set."

"He's a bit of a collector of certain things," Sara said, not liking one bit what this man was implying about her boyfriend.

"Yeah, I knew a guy in Philly like that. Kept a case of thumbs in his closet."

Sara's lips twitched. "Friend of yours?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Serial killer."

"Do you miss it?" Sara asked.

"What?"

"Philly."

"No," he said with such finality that she was rather shocked.

Keppler left the office and was almost immediately gone from Sara's thoughts. She glanced at the mail that was piling up rather alarmingly on Grissom's desk, thinking that he'd have fun going through it when he returned.

Then, she stepped across the room to her ultimate destination: the terrarium that held her cocoon. She bent down to look at it, sitting silently on its branch.

"I wonder what you are," she whispered. "I wonder why he sent you to me."

Straightening up again, Sara gave the cocoon one last look, then left the office.

* * *

A bit of background research began to paint Jesse as the likely killer. Sara learned that he had been in eleven different foster homes during his childhood. His juvenile records showed multiple convictions for prostitution and drug possession. She was rather impressed that he had done so much to clean himself up to the point of having a somewhat respectable job – or, at the very least, a job that paid well and was legal.

Warrick asked Wendy to test the vomit he had found on Margo's toilet to prove that Jesse had been in the house – because he drank so much for his job, his vomit contained enough blood for a DNA sample. They needed proof that he had been in the house.

"Hey, Sara, I got our DNA results," he said, finding her in the break room where she and Greg were celebrating his deposition's postponement.

"And?" she asked, putting down the Mountain Dew that had been part of the celebration. "Did he kill Margo?"

"Girl, he didn't just kill Margo," Warrick said, sitting down with them. "He killed his _mother_."

"Wait, what?" Sara asked. "He's connected to another case?"

"No," Warrick said. "Remember when the husband told us that Margo had given up a baby that she had as a teenager?"

"Yeah …"

"_Jesse_ was that baby."

"No," Sara exclaimed. "Wait, this makes sense then! Margo was totally happy in her marriage, but she was willing to pay to spend time getting to know her son."

"Exactly. And, I'm guessing that he didn't take the news of her being his mommy very well."

"Clearly not," Sara said. "Okay. I'll call Brass and ask him to bring him in."

* * *

Interrogating Jesse was one of the harder things Sara had ever done. For the first time in a long time, she found herself identifying with the killer.

She knew how hard foster care could be. She knew how miserable it was to be sent from one home to the next, thinking that no one wanted you. She knew how terrible it was to feel like you didn't know your own parents – though, admittedly, it was a bit different in her case.

Jesse, tears filling his eyes, told Sara and Brass that Margo had lied to him, telling him that she was his mother, that he could have her car, and that he didn't need to work anymore.

"I mean, all my clients have their ways of getting close to me," he said, struggling against the tears, "but, hers was _insane_."

"She wasn't lying to you, Jesse," Sara said softly. She slid the DNA results across the table to him. "You have thirteen alleles in common. You killed your mother."

"Then take me to jail," Jesse said. "You know, call me a killer … murderer, whatever. But, don't tell me I have a mother. Because, I don't. I never did." His face crumbled as he lost control. "And, I never will."

Sara felt her own eyes fill with tears. She glanced at Brass, who looked back at her.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Sara, why don't you go get Jesse some coffee?"

Sara nodded and gratefully stepped out of the interrogation room. Once in the hallway, she leaned back against the wall and exhaled, trying to get herself under control.

She could remember denying having a mother. She could remember screaming the words _at_ her mother. And, she could remember her mother folding her into a tight embrace, rocking her back and forth as she sobbed hysterically.

She closed her eyes tightly, then opened them, wiping away her tears. She'd get Jesse's coffee. She had a feeling he'd need it.

* * *

When she got home that afternoon, Sara took out her phone. Sitting down on the couch with Hank curled up at her feet, Sara searched through her contacts until she found the number she wanted. She listened to it ring twice.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom."

"Sara!" Laura exclaimed. "How are you, sweetie? I haven't heard from you in awhile."

"I know," Sara said. "I'm sorry."

"Sara, what's wrong?" Laura asked.

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Are you kidding me? You think this is the first time I've talked to you? I know you. That's not a good voice you've got right now."

"I just … I miss you, Mom," Sara said, suddenly fighting back tears again.

"Oh, baby. What happened?"

"I had this case," she said. "The guy … he spent his life in foster care, then, when he finally met his mother, he thought she was lying to him about who she was and killed her."

"Sara …"

She tried to laugh, but it came out strangled. "I guess I identified a little too closely."

"Why?" Laura asked. "You don't have that much in common with him. You've always known me. You didn't spend all that much time in foster care. You … don't have it in you to kill someone."

"I know," Sara said, wiping at her eyes. "I guess I'm just a little sensitive right now."

"Sara, what is going on?" Laura asked. "This is far more than a case that's bothering you."

"It's Grissom," she said at last. "He's … gone."

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Laura asked, determined to stay calm.

"He's in Massachusetts, teaching a winter term class."

"Okay," Laura said slowly. "How long is the class?"

"A month."

"I think you can survive a month without him, sweetie."

"Yeah, I know," Sara said in a lost, little voice. "It's been over three weeks at this point."

"And, you're just telling me about it now?"

"I … I told Mary. After that … I didn't want to talk about it. It – Mom, it's so hard. I never thought that being away from him would be like this."

"You love him," Laura said quietly. "It's always hard being away from the ones you love."

"Yeah."

"Have you been keeping busy? That usually helps."

"God, yes," Sara said with a chuckle. "I've been working all the time … I unpacked and organized the house … I've been busy. No worries."

"Good girl. And, have you talked to him?"

"No."

"No?"

"He hasn't called, and I don't want to call him. I don't want to bother him."

"Sara. I doubt that he'd consider talking to you a bother."

"Still …"

Laura sighed. Her daughter was a terrible communicator. Maybe she should have made her write more letters as a child.

"You think I should call him?"

"I think you should do what you think is right."

Sara smiled. "Which means you do, but you don't want to tell me to do it."

"I can't tell you what to do, Sara. I could barely tell you what to do when you were five. I know better than to try now."

Sara's smile widened. "You can give me advice."

"Sure. I just can't make you take it."

Sara laughed at that. "Thanks, Mom."

"For what?"

"For listening."

Laura smiled. "I'm your mother. It's my job."


	80. Return to Normal

A/N: Well, in case you haven't guessed, I'm back in school. So, I'll update on weekends again for awhile.

I hope you like this chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 715, "Law of Gravity." Additional inspiration is taken from episode 901, "For Warrick." No spoilers for that one, and if you aren't paying attention you'll miss the reference altogether.

* * *

_Return to Normal_

"So, one more day, huh?"

"One more day," Sara sighed. "One more shift."

Mary giggled. "Have you decided how you're going to welcome him back? Open arms or claws extended?"

Sara smiled. "I know he deserves to be reamed up one side and down the other for the way he just _left_, but … if he's missed me half as much as I've missed him, he's been punished enough."

"Sounds like he'll be welcomed home with a kiss."

"Maybe a bit more than a kiss," Sara said, grinning.

"Hey, TMI!" Mary laughed. "I do _not_ need to know what you two do behind closed doors!"

"You're such a prude."

"And, you're not?"

"Need I remind you of the Delta Incident?"

Mary burst into laughter. "I _still_ can't believe you did that, and it's been how many years?"

Sara groaned. "Don't remind me. It just makes me feel old."

"You're not old. Talk to me when you have a toddler. That'll make you feel old."

Sara's face lit up. "How's my Josie?"

"She's fine," Mary said with a wide smile. "She makes me read that book you sent her for Christmas at least twice a day."

Sara grinned. "Well, I did work in a library in high school. That must be why I'm so good at picking out books for her."

"Or, you majored in children's literature and never told me," Mary offered. "Speaking of Josie, she's waking up from her nap. I'll give you a call later, okay?"

"Okay," Sara agreed. "Give her a kiss for me."

"I will. Bye, Sara."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone and smiled. In twenty-four hours, Grissom would be home. Only one more shift, then a bit of time to sleep, and then …

Her smile widened. Maybe she'd go to work early. It might just make the time go faster.

But, before she could go to work, she needed to shower. Putting the phone down on her coffee table, she made her way to the bathroom.

* * *

"Passenger Grissom, please report to the desk."

Grissom nearly jumped out of his skin. He had hoped, but he hadn't let himself truly believe it …

"I'm Gil Grissom," he said as he reached the desk at the gate.

The woman behind the desk smiled at him. "Oh, good. We can get you on this afternoon's flight. You've already checked your luggage?"

"Yes," he said, trying not to let the rush of giddy excitement show.

"Good. We'll be boarding in about fifteen minutes." She handed over a boarding pass. "I'm glad we could help you."

"So am I," Grissom said, unable to contain his smile. "Thank you."

His initial flight had been a day later. But, he had already turned in his grades and finished his packing. With nothing left to do, he decided to try to fly home a day early. Standby rarely worked out for him, but, this time, it had.

He grinned as he took his newly-printed boarding pass back to his seat in the waiting area. He could hardly wait to get home … to see Sara …

_I'll see you soon, Sara,_ he thought. _I'll see you soon._

* * *

Sara had just finished drying her hair when she heard her phone ringing. Nearly dropping her hairdryer down the on the counter, she ran for the living room. She snatched her phone up just before it stopped ringing; she didn't even have time to look at the caller ID.

"Sidle," she said breathlessly.

"Sara, it's Catherine."

"Hey, Cat," Sara said.

"I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

"No, not at all," Sara replied. "What's up?"

"We have a 419 in the suburbs," Catherine said. "Greg was on-call, so he's already on his way, but I thought he could use some back up. Could you go help him?"

"Sure," Sara said, thinking that working with Greg would help pass the time like nothing else. "Where am I headed?"

Catherine gave her the address, waiting while Sara wrote it down. "Thanks for doing this, Sara," she said. "Nick just pulled a double, so I wanted to let him sleep until shift started, and –"

"Catherine, it's fine," Sara said, laughing. "Grissom never apologizes this much for calling me in early."

Catherine laughed. "Well, Grissom would never think that he might be taking you away from something."

"So, you're trying to tell me that you're the considerate supervisor?" Sara asked, grinning. _If you only knew, Catherine…_

"Yeah, I guess so," Catherine said. "Listen, you two take your time at the scene. The rest of us can cover everything else tonight."

"You're sure?"

"If we get totally slammed, I'll call you, but it should be fine."

"Okay. Thanks, Cath."

"Thank you, Sara," Catherine replied. "I'll talk to you later."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone for the second time in less than an hour. Once again, her only thoughts were of going to work.

* * *

"Welcome to Las Vegas," the flight attendant announced as the plane touched down. "Local time is 6:36."

Grissom's face lit up with a smile. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, like lost luggage or a massive traffic accident, he'd be home in time to see Sara before she left for work. Everything was worked out exactly as he had hoped.

* * *

"Hey," Sara said as she entered living room, where Greg was kneeling over their victim's body with David. "How's it going?"

"This is Belinda Jones," Greg said. "According to our man Dave, she's been dead for about twenty hours. Her husband said he came home from work and found her like this."

Sara shook her head. "Wait, what? David's TOD means she was dead when he left for work this morning. And, I think it would be hard to miss your wife as a bloody mess in your living room."

"Um … I think he was on a business trip and just got back? I don't remember. Brass is talking to him now."

"Good. What do you need me to do?"

"Wanna process the kitchen?"

Sara smiled. "Nothing would give me greater joy."

* * *

Grissom put his key into the lock of the front door, and heard Hank's answering barks. He grinned. He could always be assured of a warm welcome from the dog.

He opened the door, and the dog raced forward to greet him. Laughing, he grabbed his collar and directed him back into the house.

"Hey, boy," he said, patting him affectionately. "I missed you, too! Where's Mommy?"

Hank nuzzled Grissom's hand, giving it an affectionate lick. Grissom grinned and pulled his luggage inside, then closed the door.

"Where's Sara?" he asked the dog again. He raised his voice. "Sara? Are you home?"

He frowned at the silence that met his ears. Sara was usually awake by now. Thinking that she might have decided to sleep in for once, he made his way to the bedroom.

It was empty. The bed was neatly made. Sara always made the bed as soon as they were both out of it, so that wasn't unusual.

He returned to the kitchen, and opened the trash can. A clean liner met his eyes.

He sighed. She had left for work. She always took out the trash on her way out to her car – she said that she hated the idea that some CSI would have to dig through her trash if she didn't make it home after shift. Grissom found the habit to be terribly morbid, but knew better than to try to combat that particular neurosis.

"Well," he said to Hank, who was following him on his trail of evidence, "I guess she's already at the lab. Or, more likely this early, at a scene. So …"

He sighed. He had come home early to spend some extra time with Sara. He had not expected that the lab would be the one to deny his wish.

"I suppose I should go to work, too," he said. "I'm sure there's plenty to do – especially if Sara's already left."

His decision made, he decided to shower and change before leaving. The unpacking could wait.

* * *

"Hey," Greg said, walking into the kitchen. "How's it going in here?"

"I think I've got something," Sara said.

"Really?" What's that?"

She pulled out a drawer to reveal a clean trash can liner. She looked at Greg expectantly; he shrugged.

"Okay, I give. What's special about that?"

"Wait, there's more. Follow me."

Sara led Greg outside, to where the trashcans were in what appeared to be their usual spot beside the house. She opened them, allowing Greg to see that they were empty.

"Belinda has been dead for twenty hours," she said. "And, the husband told Brass that he's been out of town for two days. Most trash is picked up in the morning. So … who put the trash out this morning?"

"Maybe it went out yesterday," Greg offered.

"Then, why are the cans beside the house and not on the curb?"

"Good point," Greg said. "So, you think that the killer threw something away, put it out with the trash, waited for the trash to be picked up, then brought the cans back to the house?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but I think I like the husband for this," Sara said. "It would be such habit to put the cans out and bring them back like that."

"Brass is checking his alibi," Greg said. "It's possible that he just told us he was on a trip. Stupid thing to lie about, but ..."

"We get 'stupid' all the time," Sara finished with a grin. "Even if his story checks out, I'll bet he brought the cans up before he even went into the house. Like I said …"

"Habit," Greg finished. "Yeah, I'll buy that. Either version, really."

Sara nodded. "I think that there was something that the killer – whether the husband or someone else – definitely didn't want us to find. And, I think it wound up in the trash."

"Okay," Greg said. "I'll give Sanitation a call and see when this street is scheduled for trash pickup."

* * *

By the time Grissom was ready to go to work – before he could take his shower, he needed to take Hank for a long walk and make sure he was fed – it was time for his normal shift.

He walked into the lab and was immediately welcomed by Judy's wide smile.

"Welcome back, Dr. Grissom," she said cheerfully.

He returned the smile. "It's good to be back, Judy."

He continued past her toward his office. But, before he could make it through the door, he was stopped again, this time by a drastically different voice.

"There are no words to describe how glad I am you're back."

Ah, Hodges. Grissom turned to face him, his face twisting into the usual annoyed smile he gave the lab tech. "But, I'm sure you'll find some."

Hodges stepped closer. "Lab almost went to hell in a handbag while you were sabbaticaling. I'm sure you've talked to Catherine, but just in case you didn't … lot of hurt feelings, so … in case you talk to Nick –"

Grissom held up his hand to stop the flow of words. "I'd rather hear it from Catherine, thanks." He turned to walk into his office.

"Fair enough," Hodges said to Grissom's retreating back. "But, uh –"

Grissom turned to face him again.

"Permit me to say that the Seasonal Behaviors of the Walden Pond Swam Mosquito was an incredibly stimulating seminar."

"And, you know this how?" Grissom asked.

"I took your course online."

Grissom's mouth dropped open.

"It's free to alumni."

"Oh," Grissom said with dawning understanding and a smile. "You're Spanky."

"Seven Four Three," Hodges nodded with a smile of pure self-pride. "I aced the final, didn't I?"

Grissom nodded slightly, his smile sliding off his face. He turned around again, this time determined to get into his office.

The mountain of mail on his desk was, in a word, daunting. He shook his head as he looked at it. He had come home early to see Sara, not to spend hours in his office, going through a month's worth of mail. Part of him wondered why Catherine had not already picked through it, but he stopped that thought quickly. He knew that either she felt that he needed to do it himself as punishment for leaving, or, and the second scenario was a bit scary, she already had weeded out anything he didn't need to see.

He put his bag down and picked up the first envelope. After looking at it for a moment, he shook his head. He wasn't ready for this.

He went back to the desk. "Judy, can you tell me where everyone is?"

"Sure," she said, pulling out a log. "Catherine is in a meeting with Ecklie … Sara and Greg are at a scene together … Nick and Keppler – he's that new day shift CSI who's been helping out – are in autopsy … and, Warrick's at a scene."

"Great," Grissom said. "Where's Warrick's scene? I'll go give him a hand."

He wanted to talk to Catherine about what had happened to make Hodges so sure that the lab was falling apart, but he had no idea how long she'd be in the meeting. Warrick was a good second choice.

* * *

"I just got off the phone with Sanitation. You were right; the trash was picked up this morning after the murder. So, whatever our killer wanted to get rid of is gone."

"Did you find out what landfill you'll be searching?" Sara asked.

Greg shook his head. "_I'll_ be searching? Oh, no. You get this one."

"Greg, come on."

"No way, Sara. I'm not doing it this time. It's your turn to do the gross job." He paused and have her a rather pathetic look. "Besides, is this any way to treat the guy who helped you get that massive Christmas tree out of your house?"

Sara sighed. "Fine. We'll settle this like the mature professionals we are."

"Scissors, Paper, Rock?"

She grinned. "Exactly."

Greg's grin matched hers. "Ready?"

"Ready."

"One, two, three, GO!"

They each threw a hand out. Sara's fingers were curled tightly into a fist; Greg's were all extended straight.

"Ha!" Greg exclaimed, grinning with triumph as his hand encircled hers. "Paper beats rock! You're headed to the landfill!"

Sara simultaneously sighed, smiled and shook her head. "Oh, all right. Give me the information, and I'll head out."

"Gladly."

* * *

Before leaving for Warrick's scene, Grissom had the chance to meet Michael Keppler. He gave him a warm welcome, and received kind compliments about his team, but he couldn't help thinking that there was something a bit odd about the man. Shrugging it off as the quirky behavior that was a part of every person who worked in the lab, he left for the crime scene.

Grissom received a warm welcome of his own from the uniforms who were stationed outside the house. He smiled and exchanged pleasantries with them.

"Brown is inside," Mitchell told him. "We've got another of our guys in there with him."

"Great," Grissom said. "Thanks."

He made his way up the walk and opened the screen door. It closed behind him with a bang, bringing up Warrick's head.

"Hey," he said, stretching out his arms. "Want some help?"

"Welcome back!" Warrick's wide smile lit up his face at the sight of his mentor and friend.

"What do you got?" Grissom asked.

"Well, I'm just following a lead on some serialized butt implants," Warrick replied.

"I missed Las Vegas," Grissom said with a slight smile.

Warrick laughed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm avoiding the paperwork and mail that's piled up on my desk." Grissom set down his kit and began searching for gloves.

"Well," Warrick said, crouching down to dust the phone for prints, "we've got a dead prostitute's apartment. It's obvious that it's been ransacked and robbed. I'm thinking that she was the target of the double and the cop was just collateral."

"Where would you like me to start?" Grissom asked, spreading his gloved hands.

"You can hit the dinette," Warrick said, indicating the table that was covered with mail and papers. "I haven't taken that yet. Unless you're avoiding her paperwork, too; there's a lot of it."

They discussed the case for a moment, each sharing his findings. Finally, Grissom broached the subject he had been curious about since talking to Hodges.

"I, uh, heard there was some friction in the lab while I was gone."

Warrick stopped working and looked up at him. "You ever hear of reverse forensics?"

Grissom's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Yes," he said slowly.

"Yeah, well, Catherine and Keppler used a little reverse forensics trick to pull a drug king pin out of hiding," Warrick said. "We had him for the murder of a councilman, but couldn't find him. So, according to them, Keppler suggested faking a crime scene and letting a snitch go down for both murders to lure him out."

"And, they asked you to help?"

"No, that's just it," Warrick said. "They _didn't_. They kept it from all of us. Even made me help them process their fake scene."

"How did that go over?"

He shook his head. "Greg was insulted. Sara was _pissed_ – so was I, when it comes down to it. But, Nick … man, Griss, I've never seen Nicky like that. I thought he was going to quit on the spot."

"You talked him down, right?" Grissom asked. The last thing he needed was to lose Nick.

"Sara did," Warrick said. "He wouldn't talk to me."

Grissom exhaled. "Good." He paused. "Did it work? The reverse forensics?"

"Yeah, up until McKeen didn't tell the DA what was going on. She was so furious that she refused to press charges. We did get the guy, though – he had murdered the vic in a case that Sara and Greg were working."

"At least something went right."

"Yeah," Warrick said, shaking his head again. "You know, there's a lot of things in this job that create uncertainty. I just never thought the team would be one of those things."

"You guys felt like you couldn't trust Keppler?"

"Him _or_ Catherine," Warrick said. "I think that was the hardest part for all of us – the idea that Catherine would do something like that to us."

"Yeah," Grissom said softly. He cleared his throat. "How are things between her and Keppler?"

"Fine, I suppose."

Grissom nodded. He almost wished that he hadn't asked Warrick what had happened. His opinion was already formed. He had a feeling that whatever conversation he had with Catherine later might be a bit on the awkward side.

* * *

Sara spent what felt like days in the landfill. She was finally able to locate the Jones's trash – she found several bills with their name and address on them. Going through it took even longer, but she did manage to pull several bloody towels and a knife that she thought was likely to be their murder weapon.

She walked back into the lab carrying her kit in one hand and bagged evidence in the other. She was filthy, and could only think of getting into the shower. She just needed to log her evidence and kill Greg for making her go to the landfill, and then –

"Sara!"

Her eyes opened wide in shock. _No. It can't be._ She turned around to see Grissom leaving his office, his face lit up with a smile.

"Hey," she said. "You're back."

"Yeah," he said, walking toward her.

Sara immediately began backing away from him, throwing her arm in front of her to warn him back. "I – uh – I've been out at a – um – I've been at a –"

"Garbage dump?" Grissom supplied, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah," Sara said. An embarrassed, megawatt smile lit her face. "It's so obvious, isn't it? Nice, um …"

Sara stared at him, thinking that he had never looked so good. All blue eyes and graying curls and delicious beard and wide smile, and it was taking everything in her to keep backing away …

"You look good," she finally said

"Well," Grissom muttered, obviously embarrassed. He quickly changed the subject as they continued down the hall together, Sara still walking backwards to keep some distance between them. "Did you put the cocoon in my office?"

She nodded slightly. "Cool, dry, not a lot of light … seemed like the right place for it."

"I think you're going to be surprised when it hatches," he said, all the excitement of a child on Christmas coming across his face.

"I have no doubt," Sara said. Realizing they had reached the end of the hallway, she put an end to their frustrating dance. "I'm gonna go clean up now."

Grissom stopped walking as she turned and continued toward her destination. "I'll see you later?" he called.

Sara stopped and turned to look at him again, a smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, you will."

Grissom watched her walk away, then willed himself to return to his office, despite the fact that everything in him wanted to chase her. He wanted to grab her into his arms and kiss her senseless, regardless of the fact that she had just returned from a dump, regardless of the fact that they were at the lab … He wanted to follow her into the shower and make love to her against its tiled walls … He wanted to take her home and tell her how much he loved her.

But, it would have to wait.

Sighing, he returned to his office.

* * *

"Griss, we need to talk to you."

Grissom looked up, pleased to see Nick, Warrick and Catherine walking into his office. He shoved his paperwork aside.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Remember that double we were working?" Warrick asked. "Dead prostitute and cop?"

"Yes."

"There's another retired cop out of Jersey involved," Nick said. "Frank McCarty. He found the dead cop – said they came to Vegas together. It started to look like he might be involved in this, so Sofia, Keppler and I went to his hotel room together to talk to him. He wasn't there, but we found a bloody gun in a bag on the bed. I just processed it. It's the same make, model and caliber as the gun that killed the hooker and cop, but it's not the same gun. The thing is, Griss, I found Keppler's fingerprints on it."

"Did he touch it at the scene?" Grissom asked.

"No," Nick said. "And, I'm the one who brought it back and processed it. Besides, the prints were in _dried_ blood. There's no way it's accidental."

"He's being set up," Catherine said before Grissom could comment.

"Why?" he asked. "By whom?" He shrugged. "Keppler told me that he didn't know Frank McCarty."

"He also said he didn't know the victim," Warrick said. "Maybe he's lying about that, too."

Catherine looked at him in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, Catherine. I like the guy, too. I'm just following the evidence here."

"We should be talking to Keppler about this," Nick said.

"Where is he?" Grissom asked.

"He was with me in A/V," Catherine said. "Nobody has seen him since, and he's not answering his cell."

"He knows where the eye witness lives," Nick said.

"What are you saying, Nick?" Catherine asked.

"I'm saying that if he had something to do with these two murders, then Frank McCarty's not the only one we need to worry about."

"PD's on their way to Suzy Gibbons's apartment now," Catherine said quickly.

"Okay," Grissom said. "Grab Sara and go over there. I'll have Brass call Trenton PD and see who knows whom."

Catherine nodded slightly and stood up. "Welcome home."

Grissom watched her leave, then looked back at the two men in his office. They provided him with narratives of everything that Keppler had handled in the case.

"We have to treat him like a suspect," he said at last. "I'll tell Ecklie." He looked back at the door that had so recently framed Catherine. "Warrick, you told me that things were fine between Catherine and Keppler. How _fine_?"

"She wouldn't cover for him, if that's what you're asking. I think she just wants him to be innocent, that's all."

"Okay," Grissom said. "And, there's nothing … romantic … between them?"

"I don't think so." Warrick looked at Nick with raised eyebrows.

Nick exhaled. "I sure hope not." He smiled slightly. "We're guys, Grissom. If you want gossip, ask Sara."

Grissom smiled. "I think I've found the right ones to ask."

"Should we be insulted?" Warrick asked, looking at Nick.

"I think I am."

"I think you two need to get to work," Grissom said.

Nick grinned. "It's good to have you back, Griss."

* * *

Grissom was alone in his office, digging through his mail. He finally managed to clear everything that was stacked on top of a large box – not that he had actually read it all, but he had stacked it again, this time in order of importance. Thinking that a package should be the first thing he opened, he started to pick it up. He was interrupted by the chirping of his cell phone.

Abandoning the package, he picked up the phone and read Catherine's name on the display. Sighing slightly, he answered it.

"Grissom."

"He just called," she said. "He sounded desperate. Like a man with nothing to live for and nothing to lose."

Grissom frowned. Her voice sounded odd … and, she sounded like she was losing perspective. "Well, he's not your priority," he said, hoping to snap her back into the job. "Find the witness."

"Yeah," she said, her voice suddenly small and lost. "I'm on my way. I just – wanted you to know."

He suddenly realized what he was hearing in her voice. Catherine wasn't just losing perspective; she was losing control. She was close to tears. "Catherine, listen –"

It was too late. She had hung up.

* * *

Grissom was still sorting mail when he got the call. Keppler had been shot in a motel in one of the rougher parts of town.

Without asking, he knew that Catherine would be there.

* * *

She was. Catherine was standing outside the ambulance when Grissom arrived. He ran to her, standing beside her as the paramedics did their best to save Keppler. They couldn't.

Grissom was shocked when they pronounced him dead. Dirty cop or not, he did not want to see Keppler go out like this. He looked at Catherine, who had begun to sob. His eyes widening in shock at her reaction, he pulled her into his arms. She leaned into him, continuing to cry. He turned her around; she went willingly with him as he led her away from the ambulance.

Brass was waiting for them. He looked at them with his eyebrows raised. Grissom shook his head.

"Okay," Brass said softly, shaking his own head. "Catherine, can you tell me what happened?"

"He saved me," she whispered. "McCarty was going to shoot me, too, but Mike shot him first."

"Too?" Brass repeated.

She nodded. "McCarty shot M-M-Mike."

"Let me take her home, Jim," Grissom said. "She can give a statement later."

"We've got the girl's statement already," Brass said. "What Catherine said confirms it. I think we're done here."

Grissom nodded. "Good. Come on, Cath. I'll drive you home."

She nodded, collapsing against him again and letting him lead her to his car.

Once Catherine was safely in the passenger seat Grissom walked around the car and pulled out his phone. It rang twice before he heard her voice.

"Hey," Sara said. "I'm on my way home right now. Will you be there soon?"

"Um, no, honey, I won't be," Grissom said. "Keppler was just shot."

"Oh, my God," Sara exclaimed. "Is he okay?"

"No," Grissom said. "He's gone."

"Oh, no."

"Catherine was with him," Grissom continued.

"Oh, my God," Sara said again, this time with a titch of hysteria in her voice.

"She's fine," Grissom said quickly, realizing he had unintentionally terrified her. "But, she's really shaken up. I'm going to take her home and stay awhile to make sure she's okay. So …"

"It's going to be awhile before you get home."

"Yeah," he said softly. "I am so sorry, Sara."

"It's fine," she said. "Catherine needs you. I understand."

"Do you?"

"Gil, it's _Catherine_. She's your best friend. She's been through a horrible ordeal. I'll just …" She smiled slightly. "I'll see you when I see you."

"I'll see you when I see you," he echoed quietly.

Grissom hung up and climbed in behind the wheel. He looked at Catherine, who still had tears running down her face. He reached across to take her hand. She squeezed his hand as though it could keep her from completely losing control. She looked into his eyes, trying to stop crying.

"I'm glad you're home," she whispered.

Grissom squeezed her hand. "Me, too."


	81. Destiny

A/N: First, a huge WHOA!! to last night's episode! I won't say more for the sake of those who haven't seen it, but I did want to get that out.

I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Minimal inspiration is borrowed from episode 815, "The Theory of Everything." There are really no spoilers at all, so if you haven't seen it, it won't ruin anything for you.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI or _The DaVinici Code_.

* * *

_Destiny_

By the time they reached the house Catherine shared with her daughter and mother, she was considerably calmer. She looked across at Grissom as he parked in her driveway.

"Thank you," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

Grissom smiled slightly. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

"Gil, you don't have to stay. I don't need a babysitter."

"I need to know you're okay," he said firmly. "Come on. Inside."

Catherine shook her head with a slight smile of her own. "What did that sabbatical do to you?"

Ignoring her question, Grissom climbed out of the car and waited for her to do the same. As they walked up to the house together, Catherine took Grissom's hand. He looked at her in surprise.

"Thank you for this," she said.

"It's my pleasure."

Catherine opened the door and was immediately met by her mother. With a cry, Lily grabbed Catherine into a crushing embrace.

"Thank God," she exclaimed. "Thank God you're all right."

"Mom!" Catherine exclaimed, rather shocked by the greeting. "What's wrong?"

"I was watching the news," Lily said, obviously still panic-stricken. "They had a breaking story about a CSI who had been shot. Oh, God, Catherine, I was so worried – I thought – I was afraid –"

"Mom, I'm fine," Catherine said, taking Lily's face between her hands. "I'm fine."

"Did you know the person who was shot?"

Catherine looked back at Grissom, her eyes filling with tears again. She nodded.

"Oh, my poor baby," Lily sighed, hugging Catherine again, this time far more gently. The panic was gone, replaced with concern for her daughter.

"I'm fine," Catherine said wearily, the way she clung to her mother belying her words. "Gil brought me home, and now –"

"Thank you," Lily said, looking over Catherine's shoulder at Grissom.

"I was glad to help," Grissom said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable and unwelcome during this mother-daughter moment.

Realizing what he must be feeling, Catherine released her mother. Wiping her eyes, she turned to look at Grissom again. She held his eyes for a long moment, then wrapped her arms around him in a friendly hug.

"I'll be fine now," she whispered.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." She released him and gave him a lopsided smile. "Thank you again."

"Take tomorrow off," Grissom said. "We'll be fine without you for a day."

"You're sure?"

Grissom smiled, accustomed to fighting with his team to get them to take extra time off. "If we need you, I'll call."

"Promise?"

"Scout's honor."

Catherine leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Good night, then."

"Good night," Grissom said, looking past Catherine to include Lily in his farewell.

"Good night, Gil," Lily said. "Thank you again for bringing Catherine home."

"You're welcome," Grissom replied, thinking that if he was thanked for his efforts again, he would likely roll his eyes.

With a parting smile, Grissom left Catherine and Lily. He got into his car, already tingling with anticipation. He could hardly wait to get home.

* * *

Sara was stretched out across the couch, reading _The DaVinci Code_. She had been avoiding it since its publication, but Greg had spent a week raving about it, finally telling her that not reading it was somehow un-American. Figuring that it was enough of a pop culture phenomenon to make his statement somewhat true, she had borrowed his well-loved copy to read while Grissom was away. Between working so much and unpacking their house, she had never managed to find the time to read it. Ironically, Grissom was home, and Sara found herself passing her time with the very thing that was meant to have been her distraction while he was away.

As Robert and Sophie raced through Paris, the front door opened. Sara gasped and dropped the book onto her chest; Hank leapt up from his spot beside the couch and ran for the door.

Sara sat up far more slowly, gently placing Greg's book on the coffee table. She heard Grissom greeting the dog. She stood to her feet and stepped into his sight line.

Grissom looked up and stopped petting Hank. For five seconds, they stared at each other, each mesmerized by the sight of the other. Then, as if pulled together by an invisible string, they moved toward each other until they met in the center of the room. Grissom grabbed Sara to him in a crushing embrace and lowered his lips to hers. Sara sighed against him, melting into the kiss.

"God, I've missed you," Grissom whispered as he pulled back, his fingers threading through her hair.

"Me, too," Sara sighed. "More than you know."

She began to kiss him again, gently pushing him back. He broke the kiss and gave her a sly smile.

"Are you shoving me?"

"No-o … but, I could, if you'd like."

He chuckled. "You seem intent upon moving me somewhere."

"True." She kissed him again. "But, I hardly think I'm shoving you."

"Hm." This time, Grissom initiated the kiss. "Where would you like for us to go?"

Sara gave him a coy smile. "Where do you think I want us to go?"

"Oh, I'm a mind reader now?"

"No, you just follow the evidence."

Sara stepped away from his embrace and pulled her shirt over her head, dropping it on the floor.

"That's the first piece of evidence," she said. She began walking toward the bedroom, kicking off her shoes. "There are the second and third." She turned and gave him a grin. "Why aren't you following the evidence trail?"

Grissom grinned and hurried to catch up to her, grabbing her and kissing her as they continued down the hallway.

They started playfully, but became far more serious as they tumbled onto the bed. No, not serious … passionate. Intimate. Emotional.

As they clung to one another with the sheets tangled around them and the bed creaking beneath them, Sara was consumed by overwhelming emotion. She stared into Grissom's eyes, realizing that, for the first time, he held her eyes during the entire act. For the first time, they weren't having sex – they were making love.

Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought. Grissom, somewhat alarmed, kissed them away. Sara smiled up at him and pulled his head down for a long, loving kiss.

Afterwards, when they were cuddled together, Grissom took Sara's hand in his and gently kissed her fingertips.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Sara said, turning so she could look at him. "Yeah, Gil, I'm … I'm way more than okay. I'm …" She trailed off as tears filled her eyes again. "I never knew," she whispered.

"You never knew what?"

"That – that it could be – that I could –" She stopped and took a deep breath, trying fruitlessly to blink back the tears. "Gil, please, promise me something."

"Anything."

"Never leave me again." A tear broke free and slid down her cheek. "I can't stand to be away from you like that again."

Grissom brushed her tear away. "I promise," he said. "I promise that I'll never leave you again."

Sara leaned up to kiss him.

* * *

When Sara awoke later, she was alone in bed. She smiled at the sight of Grissom's crumpled pillow, reaching out to run her fingers over it. It felt so good to share her bed again.

After a moment, she climbed out of bed, pausing to pull on her robe before venturing into the rest of the house. She didn't have to go far to find Grissom; he was in he living room, staring at the books that had been carefully arranged on the shelves. Sara smiled at the sight of him in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants; she stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing a kiss against his back.

"Hello," he said, the smile evident in his voice even if she couldn't see his face.

"Hello," she echoed. "What are you doing?"

Grissom turned to face her with a smile and wrapped his arms around her. "You unpacked while I was gone."

Sara shrugged. "It was either that or learn to live in a warehouse."

He smiled. "You unpacked an awful lot of books."

"Well, dear, between our careers, our multiple degrees and our inherent geekiness, we have quite a collection."

"You – um, Sara, did you use the Dewey Decimal System to arrange them?"

"You don't like the way I shelved the books?"

"No," he said, his arms tightening to hold her close when she would have pulled away. "I'm not saying that."

"Because, I'll tell you right now, if you don't like it, you can rearrange them yourself. I am not doing that again!"

"Sara, calm down. I'm not saying I have a problem with it. I'm just surprised you took so much time with it, that's all."

Sara smiled and rolled her eyes. "You, the man who has his butterfly cases arranged in alphabetical order by Latin name, have the nerve to say something like that to me, a former library assistant?"

"Honey, you were in high school a long time ago."

"Oh, shut your mouth."

Grissom grinned and leaned down to capture her lips with his. "I can think of quite a few things I'd like to do with my mouth."

"Mmmm," Sara breathed as his lips moved to her neck. "I like the way you think."

Grissom pulled back and gave her a teasing smile. "I knew it. You fell for my mind, didn't you?"

"Stop teasing," Sara moaned, leaning up to kiss him again. "Take me back to bed."

Grissom was happy to comply.

* * *

Later, curled up with Grissom, with her head on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around her, Sara thought that she had never been happier. Never been more content. Everything felt so _right_.

"Are you asleep?" she whispered.

"No." Grissom's fingers began moving over her arm.

"Good," Sara said, burrowing her face into his chest for a moment. "I want to hear all about Williams."

Grissom smiled a bit sadly. "Sara … I should have called. You shouldn't have to ask about my trip after I'm already back."

"It's fine," Sara said, and, suddenly, it was. Suddenly, the month without communication didn't matter. The lack of phone calls, the note-less gift, the empty email inbox … none of it mattered. They were together, and that was the only important thing.

"You didn't miss talking to me?" Grissom asked, his fingers stopping their senseless patterns and tightening just a bit around her arm.

"I missed talking to you so much that it hurt," Sara sighed.

"I missed you just as much," Grissom said, his fingers beginning to move again.

"But, logistically, it would have been tough," Sara acknowledged. "My hours here were insane, and you were in a completely different time zone … I understand. I know how hard it is to find time to talk to Mary when she's actually awake and not busy." She leaned down to kiss his chest. "Besides, we're together now. Nothing else matters."

"Mm," Grissom agreed, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. "Sara …"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever think it's strange that we found each other?"

Sara tilted her head to look up at Grissom. "What?"

"We never lived in the same city until you came here," Grissom explained. "When you really think about, it's amazing that we met at all."

Sara smiled. "What brought this on?"

"Oh, these girls I had in class," Grissom said. "They'd get into these philosophical and theological discussions all the time – they'd usually walk in the door debating some point. Amy was the most vocal. Her theory was that everything happens for a reason. Jenna fought for the random. They'd work to disprove each other's theories on a daily basis."

Sara smiled. "Well, I'd think that you'd identify more with Amy. You're always saying that there's no such thing as coincidence."

"Perhaps."

Sara frowned slightly. "They got to you!"

"I don't know that I'd say that."

"Stop being evasive," Sara said, rolling her eyes. "What do you think? Is life random, or does everything happen for a reason?"

"Why did you sign up for my lecture?" he countered.

"Why did you agree to lecture in San Francisco?" Sara shot back.

Grissom smiled. "We're never going to find an end to this one."

Sara shook her head and kissed his chest, then looked up at him again. "I can solve it."

"Okay," Grissom said, tightening his arms around her. "Let's hear it."

"String Theory," Sara said. "Otherwise known as the Theory of Everything."

"I've heard of it, but I've never really studied it," Grissom confessed.

"It ties Quantum Mechanics and the Theory of Relativity," Sara said. "It states that every atomic particle is made up of vibrating strings. There's no way we'd ever be able to see them with current scientific equipment, but they're there."

"I thought not everyone believed in String Theory," Grissom interjected.

"Yes, well, not everyone believes in evolution, either, but that doesn't mean you don't," Sara said.

Grissom grinned. "I'm sorry. Please, continue your explanation."

Sara cleared her throat. "Each string vibrates at its own frequency, producing its own … notes, for lack of a better word." She smiled. "You like music. Think of it like this: Everything around us – including us – is made up of the symphony produced by the vibrations of the strings. And, like any good symphony, it's a constant interweaving of notes, of melodies and harmonies. The strings are constantly combining and recombining, and have been since the dawn of time. They're in each of us – and, chances are that we share far more of them than we could ever imagine."

"So, you're saying that we're connected?"

"Mm-hm. We always have been. The fact that we met was a question of time and place, not of it ever happening."

"Sounds a bit like destiny."

Sara smiled. "Maybe it was."

Grissom fell silent for a moment, then kissed her hair again. "I think some of my strings want to combine with some of yours right now."

Sara laughed and shifted to kiss his lips. "My strings love that idea."

* * *

"Hey, are you working Saturday?"

"No," Sara said from her spot at the stove, making them dinner. "Why?"

"There's a new art exhibit at the Venetian," Grissom said, looking at her over his newspaper. "It features European royalty."

"As the painters or the subjects?"

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Subjects, dear. It says they're showing works from the past five hundred years."

Sara's eyes widened. "Wow."

"Yeah," Grissom said. "You know, my mom loves the old paintings of European royals. 'Great masters at their finest,' she says. If you were painting for the king, you were an outstanding painter." He smiled a slightly dreamy smile. "We could see Velázquez, you know. I wonder if they'll have _Las meninas_? I'm not sure the Prado would be willing to give it up …"

"Okay, okay," Sara said, grinning at his enthusiasm. "You've convinced me. So, you want to go Saturday?"

"Unless you have something else planned," Grissom said. "They're showing them for the next six weeks."

"No, Saturday is fine," Sara assured him. She leaned across the counter to kiss him. "I can't wait."

* * *

Wandering through the Venetian with Grissom was like something out of a dream. Sara smiled to herself, pretending that they were in Venice, not Las Vegas, taking in the sights. Without thinking about it, she reached for his hand. Grissom smiled as he curled his fingers around hers. Maybe, without ever discussing it, they both realized that they felt the same way: They were tired of hiding. There would not be a grand announcement about, or even a slight hint of, their relationship at work – there was too much at stake – but, when they were away from work, why bother hiding?

"Here," Grissom said, inclining his head toward a sign. "We want to go this way."

Sara nodded and followed his lead into the exhibit. Surrounded by famous paintings of famous European heads of state, it was easy to continue her mental game. They didn't have to be in Venice. They could just as easily be in Paris, visiting the Louvre for the afternoon …

"Look," Grissom said, pulling her toward a painting. "This is by Goya. See how that woman is turned so you can't see her face?"

"Yes."

"She represents the prince's wife. He wasn't married at the time the painting was done, but they wanted to show the entire royal family, so Goya added a figure to represent the future queen."

"Wow," Sara said. "Where did you learn that?"

Grissom smiled. "Try growing up in an art gallery _without_ knowing things like that."

Sara grinned. "Point taken." She looked around. "Have you seen all these before?"

"Most only in copy."

"Teach me about them."

Grissom smiled. "It would be my pleasure."

They walked through the exhibit slowly, Grissom imparting knowledge and Sara drinking it in. She was familiar with some of the paintings, but not nearly as many as he was.

They rounded a corner and Sara's eyes lit up. She grabbed Grissom's hand again and led him to the painting that had caught her eye.

"_The Princesses Isabel Clara Eugenia and Catalina Micaela_," she murmured. "Sánchez Coello."

"You know it?" Grissom asked.

She turned to him with glowing eyes. "I love this painting." She turned to stare at the Sánchez Coello work of art again. "When I was a little girl, I had a copy of it in my room." She frowned slightly. "I don't know where it is now. Maybe my mom would know … I talked her into buying it for me."

Grissom did a double take as a long-forgotten memory flashed to the front of his mind. The little girl with the bright brown eyes and dark hair held back by a pink ribbon … she had been so intelligent, had been so attentive, so cute … "Sara?"

"Hm?" she asked, turning to look at him. Something in the quizzical look on her face confirmed everything in his memory.

"It was you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Where did you get that painting? Your copy of the Sánchez Coello?"

She shrugged. "Some gallery. When I was about five, my mom and I went on a road trip to find paintings for the bed and breakfast, and I talked her into buying it for me. The man at the gallery told me all about the subjects. He was really sweet about it."

Grissom swallowed. "He told you that Isabel Clara Eugenia was the king's favorite."

"Yeah," Sara said, staring at him in shock. "It bothered me for years afterward. How did you know that?"

He smiled at her. "Sara … that was me. You came to my mother's gallery. I always worked there in the summers during college."

"_You_?" she exclaimed in shock. "But, how can that be?"

He shrugged. "Small world, right?" He licked his lips, suddenly feeling a bit ill. "Um … how old did you say you were then?"

"Five, I think."

"Five," he repeated. He shook his head. "I was _twenty_."

Sara's eyes widened as she realized what was going through his mind. "Gil. Stop thinking that you're a pedophile."

He gave her a weak smile. "I'm having a hard time of that at the moment."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I spent half my childhood fretting over a sixteenth century princess because her father liked her sister more than her. So, I'm just as scarred as you are at this point."

He looked at her for a moment and shook his head. "Sara … we met when you were _five_. We met when neither one of us knew what love was … when neither one of us …"

Sara swallowed. "String Theory, remember? We've been connected from the very beginning."

"I believed you the first time," he said a bit weakly. "I didn't need something like this to prove it."

Sara smiled and took his hand, raising it to her lips to kiss his fingers. "The universe has always meant for us to be together. We just had to wait for me to grow up."

In that moment, with those words, Sara brushed away any lingering fears that Grissom harbored. He pulled her to him, pressing a kiss against her temple.

"It was worth the wait."


	82. Dead Wrong

A/N: I'm sorry this is rather on the late side. Our semester just ended, so I was beyond busy with work. This time around, it wasn't entirely my fault. I'm defeating my Grissom-like tendency to put off paperwork, but my students apparently aren't, and handed in nine weeks worth of work right before grades were due. So, blame them for the wait for this installment of the story!

This chapter actually only covers half of what I had originally planned for it. But, it was getting incredibly long, so I cut it off. I think it's a nice breaking point, which I'm sure you'll agree with once you read the next half. Hopefully, you'll be able to do that this weekend.

Thanks for reading, for reviewing, and for your patience!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episode 716, "Monster in a Box."

* * *

_Dead Wrong_

Sara stood at the bathroom mirror, carefully applying mascara. She looked down to put the wand back into the tube and felt Grissom's arms encircle her from behind.

"Hi," he said, nuzzling her neck.

Sara smiled and reached back to touch his hair. "Hey. What are you doing? A scarf won't look right with this outfit."

"You could change."

"Not if you want me to be on time for shift. We're cutting it close today."

He smiled and pressed his lips against her neck. "Well, it's not my fault that you're too irresistible. You make it difficult for me to leave."

Sara turned so she was facing him and linked her hands behind his neck. "Do you think it would look suspicious if we both called off?"

Grissom chuckled. "Yes. I do."

"Too bad." Sara leaned up to press her lips against his. "To be continued?"

Grissom nodded and brushed his lips against hers one last time. "Come on. Let's go to work."

* * *

Warrick grabbed Sara as soon as she walked into the lab, dragging her to the layout room. She laughed as she extended her stride to match his.

"What are you so excited about?"

"We caught a break in our case," he said. "Wendy gave me DNA results as soon as I was through the door, and I've been waiting for you ever since. You could have been a little earlier, you know."

Sara laughed again. "Since when do you come in early?"

"Since last week." Warrick sighed, finally slowing down as they entered the layout room. "Sara … things aren't good with me and Tina."

"What do you mean?" Sara asked.

"Remember what I told you before? About our hours and the mess everything was becoming?"

"Yeah …"

He shook his head sadly. "I don't know, Sara. I never see her anymore. I – I'm afraid – I think …" He drew a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Okay," Sara said quietly. "But, Warrick, if you need someone to listen …"

"I know," he said. He cleared his throat and gestured to the evidence on the table. "Let's just talk about the case for awhile, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

Grissom sighed. It was a slow night, which translated into spending his time catching up on his paperwork. His biggest project was going through his mail. Knowing that he had no choice, he reluctantly began sorting envelopes. Junk mail, mail he had to read immediately, mail he could read later, mail he'd read if he found time …

Finally reaching the bottom of the stack, he picked up a large box. He took out his box cutter and slit the tape across the top. Peeling back the flaps, he peered down into the box. His eyes widened at the sight before him. He pulled off the chicken wire top that obscured the object from view, and his mouth fell open.

He was looking at another miniature.

Grissom carefully took the miniature from the box and carried it out of his office. His only thought was of getting it to the layout room, where he could examine it more fully. His eyes left it only once as he walked; as he passed Catherine's office, he lifted his head to make sure she was there.

"Catherine!" he yelled upon seeing her. "Layout room! Right away!"

Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would follow his command, he continued down the hall. He knew people were jumping out of his way, calling questions and comments toward him, but he was completely unable to answer them. His focus was solely on the tiny room in his hands.

He finally reached his destination, and put the miniature on the table. Catherine arrived only a few steps behind him.

"Gil, where's the fire?" she asked.

She stopped next to him, her eyes falling on the miniature. Her jaw dropped.

"It's been sitting in my office for the last four weeks," Grissom said.

"But …" Catherine shook her head slightly. "We caught the miniature serial killer. He confessed."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "I watched him blow his brains out. But, I think the package was postmarked _after_ he killed himself."

"Maybe he arranged to have it sent post-mortem," Catherine suggested.

Grissom, who was already wearing gloves, turned the miniature to get a better look at it. "The three other murders, the miniature was left at the scene. This one was addressed to me."

"So, now it's personal," Catherine said, watching as Grissom bent over to study the tiny room with a magnifying glass.

"The victim appears to be a Caucasian female," Grissom said, looking at the doll. He looked around the room. "Lots of books … could be an office … somebody's living room … maybe a modern hotel lobby. When I was gone, did anybody work a scene like this?"

"No," Catherine said at once. "At least not on our shift. I'll go check with days and swing to see if anybody caught a case that matches –"

"Never mind," Grissom interrupted before she could leave the room.

"Why not?" Catherine asked, turning around again.

"Take a look at the early edition," Grissom said, handing her the magnifying glass.

She took it and bent over the miniature to look at the newspaper on the desk. _Saturday, February 17, 2007_ Catherine snapped upright. "It's dated the day after tomorrow."

Grissom turned to look at her. "This murder hasn't happened yet."

"I don't understand," Catherine said, shaking her head. "Why send it to you in advance – especially so _far_ in advance? Does the killer _want_ to be caught? And, who did this? Like you said, Ernie Dell is dead."

"We don't have time for _why_ just yet," Grissom said. "We need to worry about _who_ the victim is and _how_ she's supposed to die." He looked thoughtful. "Who worked the miniature cases with us? Sara and Greg, right?"

"Right," Catherine agreed. "But, Greg's off tonight – he has his deposition tomorrow morning."

"Right," Grissom agreed. "Okay. I'll call Sara and have her bring Nick and Warrick up to speed. For now, the entire team works this case. Everything else can wait."

Catherine nodded her agreement. "I'll process the packaging. Maybe our killer got sloppy."

Grissom nodded. It was a long-shot, but it was still a shot. "It's all in my office. I'll start processing the miniature. We need to figure out who this woman is before we have her in the morgue."

"I'll be back," Catherine said.

"Thanks, Cath."

She smiled briefly and left him alone.

Grissom took out his phone and called Sara. It only rang once before she picked up.

"Sidle."

"Sara," Grissom said. "Where are you?"

"On my way to PD with Warrick," she said. "We're going to interrogate a suspect in our homicide –"

"Come back here," Grissom interrupted. "Your homicide investigation is on hold."

"Why?" Sara asked. "What happened?"

"We just got a new miniature."

Sara's jaw dropped. She was extremely glad that Warrick was driving. He glanced at her, a bit alarmed by the look on her face.

"It was delivered while I was on sabbatical," Grissom continued. "I just opened it today."

"Well," Sara said in a weak attempt to lighten the situation, "that'll teach you to put off going through your mail."

"Listen, I need you to bring Nick and Warrick up to speed. Show them the crime scene photos, the case files, the evidence, the video from Ernie Dell. Everything we've got. We're all working this one."

"Who's going to the scene? You and Catherine?"

"We don't have a scene yet."

Sara frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The miniature depicts a murder that is set to take place on Saturday."

Sara shook her head. "Someone's getting bold."

"Well, let's just hope that bold translates into easier to catch," Grissom said. "Just keep me updated on what you, Nick and Warrick come up with, okay?"

"No problem."

He paused. "I'll see you when I see you."

Sara smiled. "I'll see you when I see you," she repeated.

Warrick glanced at her as she closed her phone. "Okay, what is going on?"

"We have another miniature," Sara said. "Grissom wants us back at the lab. We'll have to put this case on hold for now."

"Okay," Warrick agreed, flipping on his turn signal to turn their car around. "But, _you_ get to call Brass and tell him we won't be at the interrogation."

Sara smiled. "I think he'll understand."

* * *

As they began to work, it seemed that everything and nothing happened quickly. They all knew they were in a race against time to save the woman whose doll double was in the layout room. But, in order to do that, they needed to know who she was and where to find her.

Catherine, as promised, processed the packaging used to send the miniature. She, to no one's great surprise, came up empty. Neither she nor the lab techs were able to find any fingerprints or DNA other than Grissom's on the box or tape. The return address on the box led to an empty lot.

Sara went over everything they had on the previous three murders with Nick and Warrick. They agreed that more than one person had been involved. But, while Nick and Warrick proposed that Ernie Dell had had a partner, Sara was convinced that he had confessed and committed suicide to protect someone very special to him.

"Okay, I'll buy that," Warrick said. "Who's he protecting? Did he have kids? A wife?"

"A freakish, loner brother that he always had to protect when they were kids?" Nick suggested.

Sara and Warrick exchanged a glance, then looked at Nick.

"Speaking from personal experience?" Warrick asked.

"Let me guess," Sara said with a grin. "You were the freakish, loner brother?"

"Oh, stop it," Nick said. "No, I'm not speaking from personal experience. But, remember that case that Grissom worked up in Jackpot a couple years ago? The local cop did everything in his power to screw with Grissom's investigation because he thought that his brother had killed that college kid." He shrugged. "A lot of times, people will go the extra mile for their siblings."

"I don't think 'extra mile' covers shooting off your own head," Warrick said.

"I don't know anything about Ernie Dell's family," Sara said. "Greg was in charge of finding next of kin."

"Great," Nick said. "Where is young Sanders?"

"Off tonight," Sara replied. "I'll start looking through the case file and see what I can find."

"We'll start going over all the old evidence," Warrick said. "See what a couple pairs of fresh eyes can find."

Sara smiled faintly. "Good luck."

Sara left her colleagues with their evidence. She made it as far as the layout room before she was distracted by Grissom and Catherine, who were starting at the table in shock. Sara knocked lightly on the doorframe to alert them to her presence before entering the room.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Catherine wordlessly gestured to the table. Sara stepped forward and looked at three pictures of the bloody doll that they believed to be their killer's signature.

"These are all from the new miniature," Catherine said quietly.

Sara nodded, knowing that there had to be more to their grim expressions than that.

Catherine flipped on the ALS and shone it on the pictures. Under the alternate light, words jumped off each picture, creating a sentence. _YOU WERE WRONG_.

Sara's head snapped up, her eyes locking with Grissom's. "This was sent to you directly, wasn't it?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "Clearly, Ernie Dell wasn't our serial."

"Yeah, I'm working on that," Sara said. "I think he was protecting someone."

"Makes sense," Catherine said. "I'd say it was someone he loved – he truly made the ultimate sacrifice for him."

Grissom nodded his agreement. "You're going to work that angle, then?"

Sara nodded. "I'm going to look up the information Greg found about next of kin."

"Okay. We're going to keep working on this woman's ID."

"Good luck."

"Hm," Grissom agreed. "We're going to need it."

* * *

Sara made her way into the archives to find the information she sought about Ernie Dell's family. She was searching for the right file when she heard footsteps approaching on the grated floor.

"Hey, Sara," Greg said as he joined her. "I heard we got another miniature. Is it true?"

"Yeah," Sara said, a bit touched that he would only believe the news coming from her. "Looks like Ernie Dell was covering for someone." She pulled out a box and gave it to Greg, who caught it easily.

"No kidding," he said, waiting for her to pick the second box before walking out of the stacks.

"Hey, you were the one who checked for next of kin after his suicide, right?"

"SOP, snail mail, email, bank accounts, police records, Google … All I got was, he's a widower. Received his wife's social security benefits."

They put the boxes down on a table. Sara slit the tape on the box she had been carrying.

"He had to be connected to somebody," she said.

Putting down her knife, she took a good look at Greg for the first time since he had found her, noticing his suit. "It's kinda early for court," she said, trying to temper the concern in her voice with a bit of teasing.

"I finally rescheduled my deposition for the civil suit," Greg replied as he pulled on his gloves. "You know, Demetrius James's family is suing the city for 3.5 _million_."

Sara paused, grimacing slightly. "That's going to be a long deposition."

Greg raised his eyebrows in silent acknowledgement.

They searched through their boxes in silence for a moment. Sara nearly gasped at what she found at the bottom of hers.

"Home movies," she said, picking up the tapes labeled with seasons and years.

Greg's eyes widened. "Pay dirt."

Sara glanced at her watch. "What time is your deposition?"

Greg looked at his own watch. "In an hour."

"Okay. You go to the courthouse. I'll take these to Archie for processing. By the time you're done, they should be, too. I won't watch them without you."

Greg wanted to hug her. He would never admit it, but he was terrified about this deposition. Just knowing that he'd be able to return to work and to Sara when it was over was enough to raise his spirits.

"Good deal?" Sara asked when he didn't respond.

"Definitely," Greg said. "I'll see you later?"

"I'll be at the lab."

"Thanks, Sara," he said, giving her a wide smile.

"No problem."

* * *

It was Hodges who unwittingly gave Grissom the suggestion he needed to find their victim before she could be killed. He entered the layout room, where Grissom was still working over the miniature, with take-out menus in hand.

"Hey, boss," he said. "We're ordering out for breakfast."

"You have a cat, don't you, Hodges?" Grissom asked, holding his magnifying glass in one hand and a tiny cat from the miniature in the other.

"Mr. K," Hodges said, obviously pleased that Grissom had remembered. "Kobayashi Maru. It's a reference to –"

"You ever take him out of the house?" Grissom interrupted.

"My little Kobe?" Hodges asked, slightly horrified. "No way. Vegas is coyote country."

"So, if this is a house cat, then this must be somebody's home."

Hodges leaned in to look at the cat, noticing its white whiskers. "Tsk, tsk," he said. "Looks like he's been in the milk."

"Yeah," Grissom mused. "Maybe the victim has, as well."

They tossed around the possibility that the killer had added poison to the milk the victim used for her afternoon tea. Grissom put an end to their musings as he straightened up.

"It doesn't matter how she dies if we can't figure out who she is and where she is," he said, his frustration becoming evident.

"Well, you can't figure that out on an empty stomach," Hodges said, presenting him with a take-out menu. "If you don't like this restaurant, there's plenty of others to choose from."

Grissom stared at the delivery map on the back of the menu for a long moment. Everything clicked. He knew how they could find their victim.

He pulled out two tiny take-out menus from under the miniature's coffee table. He held them under the magnifying glass so they could read the names.

"I choose these two."

"I'll call them," Hodges said without question.

"Have them fax over every delivery radius map they have," Grissom called after Hodges's retreating back.

"I'm on it," Hodges replied, throwing up his hand in acknowledgement as he stepped into the hallway.

Within moments, the menus began arriving. Grissom plotted their delivery zones until he found the two that overlapped. Wildly pleased, he sent text messages to Catherine, Nick, Warrick and Brass, asking them to meet him in the layout room.

They all arrived quickly – Brass taking slightly longer to come to the lab from PD – eager to hear what news Grissom had.

"I've found our neighborhood," he said once they were all assembled. He gave them each a map. "I used to the delivery zones on the menus in her coffee table to find her."

"And, you're sure this is the right area?" Nick asked.

"This killer is nothing if not thorough," Grissom said. "If these are the two menus under the table in the miniature, they're the menus under the table in the living room. There's no chance we're looking at the wrong area."

"Okay," Brass said. "I'll get a team together, and we'll go find the building. Who's coming along?"

"I am," Nick and Warrick said together.

"Good," Grissom agreed. "Take pictures of the outside of the miniature to identify the building, and interiors to identify the apartment."

"You've got it."

Brass left with Nick and Warrick and Catherine gave Grissom a smile.

"We're getting it," she said, grabbing his arm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "We'll get the killer this time."

"Yeah," Grissom said. "We thought we had him last time."

"Well, we didn't know Ernie Dell's level of devotion to … whoever," Catherine said. "But, this time, we'll get him. We've got too much evidence not to."

* * *

Brass, Nick, Warrick and the army of cops who accompanied them came through. They found their victim, Barbara Tallman, before anything could happen to her. They took her out of her home, explaining that it was for her protection.

While Nick and Warrick processed Dr. Tallman's apartment, Sara, Greg and Archie began their first home movie viewing. They watched as a younger Ernie Dell, a woman, and what at first glance appeared to be an entire elementary school class of children boarded an amusement park train.

"That's got to be Ernie Dell's wife," Sara said, watching as the woman ushered the children onto the ride.

"Quite the bash," Archie commented. "Must love kids."

The train ride shots ended, but the video picked up again as the children sang "Happy Birthday" to the smallest boy, who wore an angry expression as he looked down at his cake.

"Is that Ernie's son?" Archie asked.

Greg shook his head. "There's no record of a son … but, it sure looks like it."

"One, two, three, four, five candles," Sara counted, "in 1988 would make him … 25?"

They watched as the little boy threw his cake off the table and ran away from the celebration, followed closely by his mother.

"Oof," Archie said. "Doesn't look like a very happy birthday."

"Did you get the boy's name?" Greg asked.

Archie shook his head. "Cake never made it on camera."

"How about audio?" Sara asked.

"It sucks," Archie said. "Eighties video cam with built-in, non-directional mic. Pulls in nothing but wind and train noise."

"So, let's process it," Sara said.

"This _is_ processed," Archie replied.

"Okay," Sara said. "Great. We'll just have to find the son without help from the video, then. It got us this far."

Greg shook his head. "I don't understand how I didn't find him before."

"You were looking for next of kin," Sara said. "If he and Ernie were estranged, he probably wouldn't fall under that category."

Greg raised his eyebrows and stood up. "Good point. Okay, I'm on it."

"I'll get back to the tapes," Archie said. "Maybe there's something from another party that might help."

"Thanks, Arch," Sara said. She followed Greg into the hall. "Hey, Greg!"

He stopped and waited for her to catch up with him. "Something else?"

"No," Sara said. "I just – how did the deposition go?"

"Oh," Greg said. "Fine, I think. My lawyer did a great job. I'm glad I went with the union guy like Grissom told me to."

Sara nodded. "Good."

"It'll be awhile before we hear anything, though."

"Yeah, civil cases take time," Sara said. She squeezed Greg's arm. "Hang in there, Greg."

"I will." He gave her a slight smile. "I'm gonna go find Dell the Younger."

Sara grinned. "Have fun with that."

"I will."


	83. On the Way to Right

A/N: This is the continuation of the last chapter. I hope you like it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 716, "Monster in a Box." I don't own _One Life to Live_, either.

* * *

_On the Way to Right_

"Hey," Sara said, walking into Grissom's office. "How's it going?"

"We saved Dr. Tallman," Grissom replied, looking up from the papers on his desk. "I'd say it's going pretty well."

Sara smiled. "Congratulations on that. You guys did a great job."

Grissom smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment. "How are things going with Ernie Dell's special someone?"

"Well, we found some old home movies. We think that he has a son out there somewhere. Greg's trying to track him down."

Grissom frowned. "I thought he didn't have any surviving next of kin."

"That's what we thought, too," Sara said. "But, based on what we saw in the videos, we think he has a twenty-five-year-old son."

"So…what? They were estranged, so he wasn't listed as next of kin?"

"That's my thought."

"Okay," Grissom said slowly. "But, why would Ernie confess to murders he didn't commit and then kill himself over a son he wouldn't even write into his will?"

Sara shrugged. "Isn't that the power of parental love? That it knows no bounds? That it can forgive any past wrongs?"

Grissom nodded. "True."

"Anyway, if he's out there, Greg will find him," Sara said confidently. "He's on a mission with this one."

Grissom took off his glasses to see her face more clearly. "Did he say anything to you about his deposition?"

"He said he thought it went well," Sara replied.

"Good." Grissom looked away for a moment, then back at her. "I'm glad he's with you today. I think your support is what he needs."

"I'm glad, too," Sara agreed. "And, I'm glad that the deposition was postponed until now. It's better that you're back for it."

"I haven't even seen Greg since he got back from court."

"Yeah, but I think that just knowing that you're here means a lot to him."

Grissom smiled slightly. "I hope so. I hope it helps."

The phone on his desk rang, interrupting their conversation. Grissom smiled apologetically, and picked up the receiver.

"Grissom. … Hi. … Good. … Is there anything else you need from our end? … Okay, then. We'll wait to hear from you. … Good luck."

He hung up the phone and looked at Sara. She smiled slightly.

"Can you discuss it?"

"We're going to try to catch the killer," Grissom said. "A cop is posing as Dr. Tallman, taking a nap on her sofa, just like in the miniature. The apartment is under heavy surveillance. Brass, Sofia, and half the force are waiting to greet the killer when he tries to make the miniature a reality."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "It's ingenious."

Grissom gave her a smug smile. "I may find Ernie Dell's son before you do."

"Yeah," Sara said, standing up, "good luck with that. If Greg and I find him first, your cop will have spent the day on Dr. Tallman's couch for nothing."

"There are worse things that could happen," Grissom said.

Sara nodded her agreement. "Let me know how it goes?"

"I will. And, you keep me updated on your search, too, okay?"

"You've got it."

* * *

Grissom found himself absorbed in the miniature once again. He knew that it wasn't as critical anymore – Dr. Tallman was safe at her brother's house and Brass, Sofia and the force were catching the killer. Still … he felt compelled to study the miniature, to try to discover how the killer had planned to kill Dr. Tallman and her cat.

His phone rang, interrupting his study. He picked it up rather absently, never taking his eyes off the tiny room.

"Grissom."

"Gil," Brass said, "we have a problem."

Grissom tensed, standing up straight. "What happened?"

"Officer Kayman – our undercover cop – is dead."

"What?" Grissom gasped. "Did you get the killer?"

"We couldn't. He never showed," Brass replied. "We waited around forever, but Sofia finally killed the operation. When she went to get Kayman, she was dead."

"What happened?"

"Right now, we have no idea." Brass sighed heavily. "David's on his way. I thought you could process the scene?"

"Of course," Grissom said. He frowned, trying to wrap his mind around what seemed to be the completely illogical tale Brass was telling him. "But … Jim, you said the killer never showed. How …?"

"He didn't," Brass agreed. "But, that doesn't make Officer Kayman any more alive."

"Any thoughts on COD?" Grissom asked.

Brass paused. "No," he said. "No one was in that apartment, Gil. Sofia never had her eyes off her. She didn't eat or drink anything. I have no idea what happened."

"Okay," Grissom said. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm leaving now."

"Good," Brass said. "We'll be waiting."

* * *

When Grissom arrived at the scene, David was photographing the body while Sofia looked on. She turned to look at Grissom as he set down his kit. He gave her a sympathetic look. She held his eyes for only a moment; his sympathy would be her undoing. Turning from him, she watched as David continued his work.

Grissom looked around the apartment. Although he had never been there, he knew its smallest details. It was like stepping into a dream.

Glancing toward the bookshelves, he noticed several books sticking out farther than the others, just as they had been in the miniature. He pulled on his gloves as he slowly crossed the room, fearing that he already knew what made them protrude.

He bookended them with his hands and lifted them off the shelf. As he had anticipated, the cat was behind them. Like his owner, he was dead.

Grissom shook his head. He wasn't sure what disturbed him more: the death of the cat, or that the killer had predicted it with such eerie accuracy.

"What do you have?" Sofia asked, her voice a bit hoarse.

"Dead cat," Grissom replied.

Sofia frowned. "What?"

Grissom put the books on the floor. "Dr. Tallman's cat is dead. It must have been sleeping behind these books." He shook his head again. "It's exactly as it was in the miniature."

Sofia shook her head. "I don't know what happened," she said helplessly.

"That's my job now," Grissom said. He turned away from the cat and stepped up next to the coroner. "David?"

"COD will have to wait for autopsy," he said. "There are no signs of trauma … she's pale … but that's all I can tell you for sure at this point."

Grissom nodded. He had expected as much. Their killer had sent him a puzzle to solve – it wasn't likely to be an easy one.

* * *

Grissom stared at pictures of their latest miniature, letting the details of the bizarre case roll around in his mind. Even though they now had a cause of death for Office Kayman, something told him it wasn't finished.

Upon returning from the crime scene, Grissom had gone back to the miniature. He and Hodges had performed an autopsy on the doll, and discovered that she came complete with a tiny pair of lungs. Hodges ran an analysis that proved her lungs had been pumped full of carbon monoxide. Within moments of receiving results from Hodges, Grissom received a phone call from Doc Robbins.

"Gil," Robbins said, "I've got a good idea on COD for your asphyxiated officer. Internal organ color _nailed_ it on both the autopsy and necropsy as –"

"Carbon monoxide poisoning," Grissom interrupted, looking down at the reports in front of him.

"You know," Doc said, his annoyance evident in his voice, "nobody likes when you do that. So, how did CO get into the room?"

"That, I don't know."

But, now he did. After reviewing the tapes of Officer Kayman lying in the room, Grissom noticed a change in the fire in the fireplace. He sent Nick and Warrick to the scene; they found a device on a timer in the flue. When the timer hit February 17, it released charcoal into the fireplace, creating the carbon monoxide that killed the victim and cat.

Even with everything solved, though, Grissom was not at ease. The killer was still out there. And, something told Grissom that this case wasn't truly over – not yet.

A knock on his office door brought his eyes up from the pictures. Sofia was standing there, still looking utterly miserable.

"Did you know Officer Kayman?" she asked softly as she walked into the office.

"No," he replied.

"Me, neither." She paused, choosing her words. "I was watching her die, and I didn't even realize it."

Grissom put down the photos to give her his full attention. "Look, Sofia, there weren't any carbon monoxide sensors in the apartment, so no one could have known …"

She nodded slightly.

"And, in fact, if I hadn't gone away, we'd have had another month to work with, and you would never have been in that position."

"That doesn't make you feel any better, either, does it?" she asked.

Grissom shook his head and looked away.

"You know, the scene's been released," Sofia said. "Ms. Tallman was pretty insistent. We offered to leave a uniform with her, but she wasn't having it."

Grissom picked up one of the pictures again, studying it. He sighed.

"So, what are you looking for?" Sofia asked. "The miniature's complete."

"It's not perfect, though," Grissom said, raising his eyes to look at her again. "Officer Kayman was _not_ the intended victim."

"Well, she was dressed like her," Sofia said. "She died in the right position. So did the cat."

"I'm still not sure it's perfect enough."

Grissom's phone rang, interrupting the conversation. He picked it up.

"Grissom. … Yeah. … Okay." He put down the receiver and looked up at Sofia. "Now, it's perfect."

"What?" she gasped.

"That was Brass. He's just been called to the apartment. Apparently, Peyton Tallman went to visit his sister this afternoon, and found her dead on her couch."

Sofia's face fell. "Are you going to the scene?"

"Catherine and Nick are already on their way."

* * *

"Okay," Sara said, walking into the break room, where Greg and Catherine were discussing Dr. Tallman's death. "We've got a lead."

"Lionel Dell confessed," Greg said, referring to Ernie's long-lost son that he had found and Sara had interrogated.

Sara smiled. "Um, no. It's not going to be that easy."

"Nothing about this case has been," Catherine said. Her phone beeped and she picked it up to read the text message. "Hodges has results for me on the liquid Nick found in Dr. Tallman's ear. I'd better go now."

"Have fun," Greg said.

"Oh, yeah," Catherine replied with a smile. "Good luck with your train boy."

Sara grinned. "Thanks."

"You have to admit, if he were a murderer, he could probably blame it on the fact that his father named him Lionel," Greg said.

Sara laughed. "Well, Sofia and I talked to him," she said. "As it turns out, he always had a terrible relationship with his father."

"I don't know about that," Greg said. "Ernie seemed to like him when he was a little kid."

"Yeah, he didn't say much about that."

"So, did he point you in the right direction? Was Nick right? Did Ernie have some freak of a brother that he always wanted to protect?"

"No," Sara said, chuckling. "But, as it turns out, our boy does not consider himself an only child."

"Tell me he does not have multiple personality disorder."

Sara shook her head. "Greg, please promise me that you'll stop watching _One Life to_ _Live_."

"Sara, I'm so serious. It's the best show on daytime tv."

"Right," she said incredulously. "No, Lionel does not have multiple personalities. He did, however, have quite a few foster siblings."

Greg's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yeah. Remember all those kids in the video? They were the Dells' foster children. Lionel said his mother loved kids."

"That was really great of them to take in all those kids. They must have had –"

"Over a dozen," Sara confirmed.

Greg shook his head. "I hope they had a big house."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "Anyway, Lionel became less helpful in identifying them. He could only remember a few names."

"Did you show him the tape?"

Sara shook her head. "He refused to watch it."

"Okay," Greg said slowly. "So, we've got a bevy of suspects. We just have to identify them."

"I thought we could start by counting them," Sara said. "Archie is cueing up the tape for us. Shall we go watch?"

"Sure," Greg said.

Archie was waiting for them when they walked into the A/V lab.

"Is it time for the matinee?" Greg joked.

"Yeah," Archie replied. "We're showing horror movies today."

"The evolution of a serial killer," Sara said as she sat down next to Archie. She looked at the screen, frozen on a picture of giggling children on a train.

Greg sat down on her other side. "They're so innocent. How could one of them grow up to cause all this terror?"

"They had already seen a lot by this point in their lives," Sara said. "Their parents had done awful things if they had been taken away – especially in the '80s. It wasn't like now. We take kids away from their parents if they spank them now. Back then …"

"It was a whole different ballgame," Archie said. "So, should we start counting?"

Sara smiled. "Roll the footage."

* * *

"Hey."

Sara paused the video and turned to see Grissom entering the lab. "Hey."

"Where are Greg and Archie?"

"Lunch break."

Grissom sat down next to her. "You didn't go with them?"

Sara shook her head. "I wasn't hungry."

Grissom nodded. "Want the latest news on the case?"

"Sure," Sara said. "I could use a distraction."

"Peyton Tallman killed his sister."

Sara's mouth dropped open. "Peyton Tallman?" she repeated in disbelief. "The same man who just took all our carefully-guarded miniature information the media?"

"The very same." Grissom sighed. "He said that Barbara's Parkinson's was robbing her of her life. She wanted to die at home, and felt that this would be her opportunity. Peyton could smother her, and they could blame it on the miniature killer."

Sara exhaled and stared unseeing at the screen. "Well. At least she got part of her wish."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. He gestured toward the screen. "What's all this?"

"According to Ernie Dell's son, the children seen here were likely all his parents' foster kids. Although he never had a good relationship with Ernie, he said that these kids did. He called them 'the chosen ones.' If Ernie took a bullet for someone, these kids are our best bet." Sara pressed play.

Grissom watched as the train moved past the camera, his eyes widening at the number of children that rode it.

"We reran the video footage several times to get a head count," Sara said. "Assuming that they're all Dell foster kids, there's _thirteen_ of them."

"At this birthday party," Grissom said.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "Lionel only remembered first names, and only a few of those. Getting the DHS records is going to be tough. Judges hate giving them out unless we can demonstrate pressing need, and even then, they're spotty. A lot of foster kids change their names when they age out."

"Ernie Dell confessed and killed himself to protect someone he loved," Grissom said. "And that someone has murdered five people. Eeny-meeny-miny-moe, catch a monster by the toe."

"Ernie didn't see a monster," Sara said quietly. "And, that is something."

"Parental love, right?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah," Sara said, her voice softer still. "That's not something foster kids see all that often."

Grissom turned his eyes away from the screen to look at Sara. Her eyes were trained forward, but he didn't think she was seeing the video footage. He reached over and took her hand, gently squeezing it. She returned the pressure, but still didn't look at him.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?" She finally looked away from the screen into his eyes.

Grissom shifted his hand to entwine his fingers with hers. "Can we go get coffee?"

Something in the way he said it made Sara think back to the weeks and months before they had started dating, back to a time when their only stress relief was to go out for coffee together and to talk through all the horror that made up their professional world. This case was bothering him – and, he needed that outlet again.

"Yeah," she said, tightening her hand around his. "Let's go."

* * *

They found themselves at their usual coffee shop, sitting at their usual table, drinking their usual drinks. They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks while they let their thoughts tumble through their minds.

"Do you want to talk?" Sara asked after she felt enough time had passed.

Grissom put down his cup. "You first."

Sara's eyes widened. "Me? What do you want me to say?"

"Anything you want," Grissom replied.

"Griss, I'm fine."

"Sara, I saw the way you looked at those kids on the tape," Grissom said. "I don't think you're okay. And, I don't think you should hide that from me."

"Gil …" She set her cup down and reached across for his hand. He gave it up willingly, letting her cradle it in hers. "I'm not hiding from you. You know that I was in foster care for awhile while my mom was …"

"I know."

She shrugged. "It's just … not something that's easy to forget, that's all. Can you imagine how terrifying it is for a child to have to live with strangers? To feel like an outsider when all you want to do is to make yourself invisible?"

"I know that it's part of what made you the strong, brave woman you are," Grissom said quietly, gently running his thumb over the top of her hand.

"Something terrible happened to put each of those kids in foster care," Sara said. "Everyone has a different capacity for horror, and everyone has a different way of coping. My guess is that one of those kids hit his breaking point, and then was pushed a little further. He couldn't take it, and …"

"A monster was born."

"Yeah."

"Sara?"

She looked up at him, a bit surprised by the intensity in his eyes.

Grissom licked his lips, choosing his words carefully. "You could never have been that monster. It doesn't matter what your parents did or how many strangers you lived with. You don't have that kind of capacity for evil, and … there's no way that could have been you. You're too strong for that."

Tears filled Sara's eyes as he began talking. As he uttered the last sentence, a tear broke free and slid down her cheek. Grissom reached across and brushed it away. She drew a deep breath, trying to bring herself under control.

"God, Griss, I'm sorry," she said, wiping at her eyes.

"Don't be," he said, bringing the hand he still held up to his lips. He pressed a kiss against her fingers, eliciting a smile from her.

"Okay," she said, drawing another deep breath. "Your turn."

"You're sure?"

She nodded. She wasn't sure, entirely, that she was back onto emotionally stable ground just yet, but she was sure that she wanted to shift the focus of the conversation to him.

"Tell me what's bothering you," she urged.

He sighed. "I was wrong, Sara. I was wrong about so many things. I was wrong about the serial killer. I was wrong about the manner of death. I was wrong, and I hate it."

"I've never seen you get upset about being wrong before," Sara said.

"It's never bothered me to be wrong," Grissom said. "I told Nick and Warrick once that I'm wrong all the time. Without being wrong, it's impossible to get to being right. But, this time, because I was wrong, innocent people died. And, that _does_ bother me."

"Griss, how could you have known?" Sara asked. "Ernie Dell _confessed_. He was on his own, not under interrogation … it's not exactly a time when you'd think that someone had coerced a confession out of him."

"I know." He ran his hand over his face. "If I had just opened that package sooner …"

"The past is in the past," Sara said firmly. "There's nothing you can do to change it now. You are not responsible for any of this. You didn't ask Ernie Dell to confess and then kill himself. You didn't put that charcoal in that fireplace. You didn't smother Barbara Tallman. The only thing you did, Gil, was to care." She smiled slightly. "Weren't you the one who told me that it's not our job to care?"

"I'm sure I didn't say that."

"Well, something like that."

He smiled slightly. "I've never seen it stop you from caring."

"It's nice to see you start for once."

He shook his head and touched her face, letting his fingers thread through her hair. "Wanna go home?"

"Yeah," she said, leaning into his touch.

"Let's go."


	84. Obsessive Love

A/N: When you get to the end of this chapter, I'm sure you'll think I've lost my mind for ending it where I did. But, no worries … I'll have more of this episode in the next chapter.

Before you begin reading, I just have to give a shout-out to my Super Bowl Champion Pittsburgh Steelers! And, to all the Cardinals fans: Great game! And, congratulations on your Cinderella season!

Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this (very long) update!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 717, "Fallen Idols."

Grissom quotes Winston Churchill. Sara uses the title of a 1963 Spencer Tracy film.

* * *

_Obsessive Love_

Sara walked into the house and dropped her keys on the table. Hank came running to meet her, his tail waving madly from side to side. Sara's face lit up with a smile at the sight of him.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said, bending down to pet him.

Hank immediately dropped to the ground and rolled onto his back, begging her to rub his belly. Laughing, Sara knelt down to oblige his wishes.

"Have you missed me, Hank?" she asked, rubbing his belly. "I missed you. I'm so glad I came home on time today. I just wish that Daddy could have, too. He was interrogating a suspect when I left."

Sara sighed. It felt like years since she had spent a decent amount of time with Grissom outside of work. In reality, it had been nearly three weeks. They were always running past each other as they darted to court or to interrogations or to crime scenes … the fact that they weren't even working any cases together didn't help.

Sara gave the dog one last pat and stood up. "Wanna go for a run, buddy?"

As she had anticipated, the magical word "run" was all it took to have Hank on his feet. Sara laughed.

"Let me change my clothes, then we'll go."

Sara and Hank took their usual route around the neighborhood. By the time they returned home almost an hour later, Sara had come to terms with the fact that she'd have to spend another morning alone. She'd just spend it sleeping.

She unlocked the door and Hank bounded in ahead of her, racing down the stairs to his water bowl in the kitchen. Smiling at him, she closed the door and kicked off her shoes. Tossing her keys onto the table, she followed him down the steps. She opened the door of the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water, and stopped short.

A vase full of roses was sitting in her refrigerator.

Smiling slightly, she lifted it out and set it on the counter. She admired the red flowers for a moment, then plucked the card out of its holder.

_I've missed you_.

She smiled. She had missed him, too.

"Hi."

Sara jumped and dropped the card. It floated to the counter, skidding to a stop beside the vase.

"I'm sorry," Grissom said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I thought you were still at work," Sara said, willing her heart to slow to its _just back from a run_ pace.

"The suspect confessed as soon as Vartann told him why we had called him in," Grissom said with a shrug. "It was pretty easy."

"Wow," Sara said. "This week hasn't had much 'easy' in it."

"No," Grissom agreed. He took a rose from the bouquet and brought it to his nose. "I've missed you, Sara," he whispered, stepping closer to her.

"I've missed you, too," she said, feeling herself getting lost in his eyes.

Grissom ran the flower over her cheek, the soft petals caressing her skin. He ran it down her neck and over her chest. "I was surprised you weren't here when I got home."

Sara swallowed. "I thought you'd be awhile, so Hank and I went out for a run."

"I can see," he said, leaning in to kiss her.

Sara leaned away. "Griss, I'm all sweaty."

"I don't care," he murmured. "It's been too long for me to care."

Sara moaned as his lips crashed into hers. She reached up to sink her fingers into his hair, pulling his head even closer. Grissom pushed her up against the refrigerator as their kiss deepened. Then, with a suddenness that surprised her, he pulled back.

"What are you doing?" she asked, breathing heavily.

"Taking this party to a new venue."

Giggling, Sara followed him to the bedroom, where they picked up where they had left off in the kitchen. They were on the bed together, quickly scattering their clothing about the room, when Grissom's phone rang. He lifted his head from Sara's chest and shot the device a death glare.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Don't answer it," Sara begged.

Grissom reached out and picked it up off the nightstand. "It's Brass," he said. "I have to answer it."

"Gil, _please_."

"Sara …"

"Oh, all right," she sighed, falling back on the bed.

Grissom gave her a tortured look, then flipped the phone open. "Grissom."

"Hey, it's me," Brass said. "I know you probably haven't been home all that long, and I'm sorry to do this, but I need you at a crime scene."

Grissom groaned. "Jim, this is the closest I've come to leaving work on time in weeks –"

"I know," Brass interrupted. "And, believe me, I am sorry. But, I just got a missing person's report on a couple of teenagers. They were last seen at their high school. I sent Mitch over to check it out, and he said that he needs CSI to test a substance in the parking lot."

"And, I was the only one who came to mind?"

"What can I say? You're the best. And, with missing kids …"

"Okay, okay," Grissom said. "What high school?"

"Ridge Valley."

"Okay," Grissom said again. "I'll call you when I get there."

"Thanks, Gil."

"You're welcome."

Grissom closed his phone and looked down at Sara. "I'm sorry," he said.

Sara groaned. "Are you _serious_?"

"Brass has two missing teenagers," Grissom said.

"And, you're supposed to care?"

"It's our job to care."

"Yeah, well, I have a feeling that if Brass knew we haven't had sex in almost a month, he'd find someone else to _care_."

Grissom laughed. "I'm not entirely sure that's information he'd want to have, dear."

"Maybe he should have it," Sara said. She reached past Grissom, fingers stretching for his phone. "I'll call him and explain –"

"No, you won't!" Grissom said, grabbing the phone and sliding it out of her reach. "Look, Sara, I'm just as … frustrated … with this situation as you are. But … what can we do?"

Sara ran her hands over her face. "Oh, okay. Have fun finding those missing kids."

Grissom smiled slightly. "Yeah."

"Call me if you need me."

"Oh, I need you," Grissom said. "Unfortunately, the ways I need you have nothing to do with missing kids."

Sara smiled what Grissom always called her "bedroom smile." "Wanna deal with that first?"

"You have no idea how much."

"Actually …"

Grissom followed the path of her eyes and grinned. "Okay. You do."

Sara laughed. "Oh, Gil, promise me it won't be like this for the rest of our lives."

Grissom smiled and leaned down to chastely kiss her lips. "I promise. Eventually, we'll retire."

Sara laughed again. She touched his cheek. "Okay, go, before I say something to make you stay so I can have my way with you."

Grissom turned his head to kiss the palm that was stroking his face. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

* * *

As it turned out, Brass had good cause for summoning Grissom to the high school. The substance Mitch had noticed in the parking lot was blood. Hoping that he was wrong, and that nothing other than a trip to Mexico had happened to the high school sweethearts, Grissom called Nick in to help him. They scoured the campus for any sign of the missing teenagers.

It wasn't until they reached the football field that they had to admit that the teenagers likely hadn't run away to elope. They found a considerable amount of blood – enough to assume that at least one of them had been killed.

It was time to involve the rest of the team.

* * *

"What can I do?" Sara asked as she walked into Grissom's office.

"Good news travels fast," he said, putting down his cell phone.

"I talked to Greg," she replied.

"So did I," Grissom said. "I have to leave for the scene – he said he and Nick found something they want me to see. Talk to Catherine. She's command central here."

Sara grinned at his word choice. "I'll talk to her."

"Good." He gave her a smile as he stood up.

His smile was strained, it was forced, and it was all it took to make Sara realize how hard the case was hitting him. "Griss … we'll find them."

"You know we can't promise that."

"But, we can be optimistic."

"Yeah. I guess we can do that."

"We have to do that," Sara said. "If _we_ don't believe we can do this, what hope do their families have?"

"You're right." Grissom stopped in front of her and touched her face. "Thank you."

Sara touched his hand with hers, pulling it from her face and entwining their fingers. "Stay strong."

Grissom squeezed her hand briefly, then released it. "'Never, never, never give up,' right?"

Sara smiled. "Exactly."

* * *

"Well," Warrick said, walking into the layout room, where Sara and Catherine were analyzing blood spatter patterns in the photos Grissom and Nick had taken at the football field, "that was an experience."

"Scared to talk to the teacher, Warrick?" Catherine asked without looking up from her task.

"Well, she did hit on me…"

"No!" Sara said, her head snapping up. "Two of her students are missing, her football field is covered in blood, and she's spending her Saturday hitting on the man trying to find the kids?"

"I know," Warrick said, shaking his head. "Anyway, Cath, she said that all her students have her cell number. She said that Ryan called her last night to ask about getting copies of the pictures the photography club took at the basketball game."

Sara frowned. "Does that seem weird to anyone else? Ryan is a basketball star. He had just won a big game – scored the game winning points, so his parents say. Shouldn't he … go out with his friends? Celebrate? Calling his teacher just seems … odd."

"Yeah, it's odd," Catherine agreed.

Warrick shrugged. "Maybe he had a crush on the teacher."

"Isn't Megan his girlfriend?"

"They're in _high school_, Sara. You know how serious those relationships are."

"Don't go there," Catherine warned. "No one understands the power of intense love more than a teenager. Just ask mine. Believe me, if they're dating, I'm sure they're _deeply_ in love."

Catherine's phone rang, interrupting their conversation. She glanced at the screen. "Grissom," she said, then answered the call.

"What are you two doing?" Warrick asked while Catherine talked to Grissom.

"Analyzing spatter patterns," Sara replied. She waved a hand to indicate the photos on the table. "Grissom and Nick took these at the football field."

"Oof," Warrick said, leaning over to look at the picture in front of Sara. "That definitely looks like arterial spray."

"Yeah, that's what we're thinking," Sara agreed.

Warrick shook his head. "I don't know, Sara … this sort of makes me think we're looking for a couple of bodies."

Sara shook her head quickly. "Think positive, Warrick."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Grissom had news," Catherine said, closing her phone. "They found Megan."

"Is she …?"

"She's alive," Catherine confirmed. "Based on what Nick and Greg found at the scene, it looks like she was the victim of a very intentional hit and run."

"Is she going to be okay?" Sara asked.

"It's too soon to tell," Catherine said. "I –"

Again, she was cut off by her phone. Warrick turned to Sara while Catherine answered her phone.

"Okay, you were right," he said. "We need to stay positive."

Sara smiled slightly. "Well, I _am_ right on occasion."

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Okay," Catherine said again, closing her phone for the second time. "That was Sofia. Unis found Ryan's van. She's clearing the scene, but she needs us to process the car. Do you two want to go?"

"Sure," they said as one.

"Good. Let me know what you find."

* * *

Sofia was waiting for Sara and Warrick when they arrived at the scene. They could see the van a short distance behind her, guarded by yellow crime scene tape and several police officers.

"Uniforms found the van on patrol," Sofia said by way of greeting. "They called it in. I cleared it; waited for you to open it up."

They ducked under the tape and approached the car. Sara immediately walked to the front of it.

"Front end's intact," she said. "No damage, no paint transfer … There's no sign of an accident."

"The keys are still in the ignition," Warrick said from his spot next to the driver's side window. "There's no blood on the driver's seat."

"Which means Ryan probably wasn't driving," Sofia said, "because his blood was all over the field."

They walked around to the back of the van. Warrick and Sara exchanged a glance as they both noticed blood on the bottom of the doors. Warrick handled the photo documentation, then opened the doors.

Among other things, the back of Ryan's van held a folded over sleeping bag. All three of them stared at it for a moment.

"Body dump?" Warrick suggested.

He grabbed a corner of the sleeping bag and flung it back. The bag, to their surprise, was empty – but, exceptionally bloody.

"Where's the body?" Sara asked.

"Well," Warrick said, already snapping pictures, "that I cannot tell you. But, I can tell you that this sleeping bag was used to transport it."

"So, that's what we're going with?" Sofia asked. "Ryan was killed, shoved in this sleeping bag, and transported in his own van?"

"Right now, that's how it looks," Sara said. "We need to have the van towed back to the lab."

"I'll call transport," Sofia said.

She walked away from them to make the call. Sara bit her lip as she looked at the bloody sleeping bag.

"Megan was hit by a car and is in critical condition. Ryan is still missing, but, I think it's safe to say, presumed dead," she said. "What happened to these kids, Warrick?"

"I don't know," he said, lowering his camera. "But, I think it's a pretty safe bet to say that their photography teacher was involved."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "You think so?"

"I think it's odd that Ryan called her after a basketball game. I think it's odd that she hit on me with so much going on. And, I think that there was just something about her …"

"Something like what?"

"I don't even know how to say it," he said. "Something just didn't seem right."

"Maybe we should talk to her again," Sara suggested.

"Yeah, but why? Brass can't call her in because I have a bad feeling about her. We need proof."

"Well," Sara said, looking around the van full of … stuff, "I think we should be able to find something in this mess."

"Yeah," Warrick agreed. "It just might take us some time to sift through it."

* * *

"Welcome back," Catherine said as Sara and Warrick entered her office. "How did it go with Sofia?"

"It's Ryan's van, all right," Warrick said. "From our initial observations, it looks like it was used to transport his body."

Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "You found his body?"

"No," Sara said. "But, we found a bloody sleeping back in the back of the van."

"How bloody?"

"Once transport gets the van here, the sleeping bag is all yours," Warrick said. "It has enough blood patterns to make you happy."

Catherine smirked. "Are you suggesting that the way to my heart is through blood pattern analysis?"

"Your words, not mine," Warrick said, holding up his hands. "Where is everyone else?"

"Nick went to the hospital to collect evidence gathered when Megan was brought in, and to talk to her family and friends. Grissom and Greg are still at the scene."

"Which one?" Sara asked.

"Hit and run," Catherine said. "They're looking into who hit Megan."

Sara shook her head. "Someone really had it in for these kids." She glanced at Warrick. "Do you think there's a chance it was just a really vengeful classmate?"

"If that photography teacher _wasn't_ involved, I'll be shocked," Warrick said.

Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "I thought you said Ryan just called for pictures from the game?"

"That's what she said," Warrick agreed. "But, there's just something about her…"

Sara's phone beeped. She picked it up to read the text message. "Our van is here," she said. "Let's go see if we can find anything to link the teacher to this murder."

Catherine shook her head. "Guys … I really hope you're wrong about this. I'd really hate to think that a teacher could kill her own students."

"'It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world,'" Sara said.

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "That's a rather old quote."

Sara shrugged, willing herself not to blush. She and Grissom had rented the movie on their last night off together. "I like old films."

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were into Tom Haviland's movies."

"Uh, I swore off him after his defense team ripped us apart," Sara said. "Besides, I'm allowed to have diverse tastes, aren't I?"

"Why not?" Warrick said. "Greg's into latex and coin collecting. It doesn't get much more diverse than that. Come on, little girl. Let's go process a van."

"We'll send the sleeping bag to you, Cat," Sara promised as they left her office.

"I'll be waiting for it."

Sara and Warrick went to the locker room, where they both changed into coveralls. Once they were appropriately outfitted, they made their way to the garage.

"Where to begin?" Sara asked, staring at the van.

"How about prints?" Warrick suggested.

"Sounds like fun."

The task of fingerprinting the van took longer than Sara had imagined. It seemed as though someone had touched every surface in the vehicle.

"High school kid with a van," she commented, placing yet another tape lift on the table. "We could have half the senior class in here."

"Yeah," Warrick agreed cynically, "a bunch of minors who won't be in the system. That'll be helpful."

Warrick began taking pictures of the very cluttered back of the van, while Sara opened the driver's side door, ready to continue her printing mission. She looked at the seat, noting that it was nearly all the way forward.

"Ryan is six feet," she said. "Whoever was driving must have adjusted the seat."

Warrick remained silent. They had already established that the bloodless seat meant that Ryan had not been the last person to drive the van.

Sara slid the seat back, revealing a cell phone. "Hello."

"What'cha got?" Warrick asked.

"I've got a cell phone," Sara replied, snapping a picture before picking up the pink and white phone. "The battery's dead, so I don't know who it belongs to, but something tells me that pink is not Ryan's color."

"I don't know," Warrick said in a sing-song voice, reaching down into the van. "I think he might be always thinking pink."

Sara looked back to see a pink thong hanging from the end of Warrick's flashlight. Her mouth opened in surprise.

"If these all belong to one girl, she's got nothing left to wear," Warrick said, chuckling at the sight of so many panties in one small space.

"You know," Sara said, abandoning the front of the van to join him at the back, "when I was in college, I had this boyfriend … I thought we were monogamous. Then, one night, during the post-coital panty-search, he handed me a pair of underwear that wasn't mine."

"Oof!" Warrick exclaimed. "How did he explain that one?"

"He said they belonged to his sister," Sara said slowly, still in disbelief over the whole thing.

"Yeah, right!"

"I know."

Warrick laughed. "Let's hope your taste in men has improved since then."

"Yeah," Sara said, making a face.

She thought of the men she had dated since Jason. Until Grissom, none of them had been much better than the college senior who had told her that the panties she found in his room belonged to his sister. The thought of how much time she had spent with Hank without realizing that he had another girlfriend still made her stomach twist.

It had taken her a long time to get it right – for, as Warrick had said, her taste in men to improve. She was so happy that it finally had.

She wouldn't trade her life with Grissom for anything.

* * *

As promised, Sara and Warrick gave Catherine the sleeping bag they had found in the van to process. She found blood pools, bloody handprints and blood spatter, but that was hardly the end of the bodily fluids. Using the ALS, she found multiple semen stains, making her wonder when this basketball star had time to practice his sport and keep up his grades.

Her next task was a microscopic search of the sleeping bag. She kept her eyes trained on the laptop's monitor while she passed the wand over the surface. Her eyes widened as tiny bugs came into view.

"_Ew_!" She turned away from the screen in disgust.

Grissom, walking past the room, heard her exclamation and ducked in to check on her. "You okay?"

She exhaled, and turned the laptop so he could see he screen. Grissom's eyes widened in amused surprise.

"_Pthirus pubis_," he said.

"Yeah, crabs," Catherine said, her disgust at the sight of the insect melting into disgust at the teenager's behavior. "I am buying Lindsey a chastity belt."

"There's a hole in the metal to let the urine pass, so, theoretically, she could still get them," Grissom said.

Catherine looked at him in shock. "You are so creepy sometimes," she whispered, shaking her head.

Grissom nodded slightly in silent acknowledgement. "You know, the incidence of STDs in monogamous couples is slim."

"Unless someone arrives at the party with them," Catherine pointed out.

"So, assuming they both have pubic lice, if either Megan or Ryan were assaulted, they would have given them to their attacker."

"Sex pervert with an STD?" Catherine asked. "That's not going to narrow it down."

"Yeah, but once they jump to the fresh host, crabs contain the DNA of the receiver and the giver," Grissom said. "Did the parents agree to an SAE kit?"

"Yes."

"Perfect. I'll go see if the hospital has shared that with us yet."

"Nick should have it," Catherine said. "He went to the hospital."

Grissom nodded. "I'll track him down."

"Hey, Gil," Catherine called as he walked toward the hallway.

"Yeah?" He paused in the doorway and turned to look at her.

She grinned. "You're still creepy."

Grissom smiled. "But, you love me anyway."

* * *

"So, how did it go with the van?" Greg asked, walking into the break room, where Sara and Warrick were taking a much-needed break.

"You mean the shaggin' wagon?" Warrick asked.

"Do I?" Greg asked, sitting down with them.

"That van had more underwear in the back of it than a Victoria's Secret store," Warrick said.

Greg looked at Sara, who nodded wearily.

"Our boy Ryan gets around," she said. "Or, as Warrick said, poor Megan is going commando at this point."

"What the hell is wrong with these kids?" Greg asked.

"Hey, according to Nick, you were quite the player in high school," Warrick said.

Sara snorted into her juice. "Please."

Greg looked between them and shrugged. "I had a lot of girlfriends," he said. "But, I never cheated on anyone. I never had more than one girlfriend at a time. That's not me, and it never has been."

"Good for you, Greggo," Warrick said. "You are a man of virtue."

"What, you've cheated on girls?" Sara asked in shock.

"Me?" Warrick asked, horrified. "No. Never. I was raised by my grandmother. You think she didn't teach me how to treat a lady?"

Sara smiled. "It's nice to be surrounded by such great guys."

Greg ran his hands over his face. "How much longer do you think this case is going to take?"

Sara and Warrick exchanged a look.

"We've still got one kid missing, and no idea what happened to either of them," Warrick said. "It could be awhile."

"Ahh…"

"Are we keeping you from something?" Sara asked, looking at Warrick again.

"These kids might keep all of us from something," Greg said. "David's wedding is next weekend!"

Sara laughed. "Greg, if we haven't found Ryan in a week, I'm sure we'll all be able to take the time off for the wedding. At that point, we'll have people from other shifts involved." She paused. "And, I might add, your sensitivity in this matter is utterly astounding."

"Hey, I don't know these kids. I do, however, know David – and, I know that Lucy's family is going to put on quite the bash for this wedding. I don't intend to miss it."

"Yeah, it's going to be fun," Warrick agreed. "Tina got a new dress to wear. She's excited about it."

"Ah, the one man who will be there with a date," Greg sighed. "If only we all could be so lucky."

"Hey, nothing's stopping you from getting married," Warrick said.

Greg shrugged. "You're right. How 'bout it, Sara? Wanna get married?"

Sara choked on her juice.

Warrick laughed, smacking Sara's back. "I think that's a 'no,' Greg."

"Well, you were wrong," Greg said, his eyes twinkling with laughter. "There is something stopping me from getting married. I haven't found the right girl."

Sara finally recovered and laughed. "What is it with this team? Why are all of you always proposing to me?"

Her phone beeped, alerting her to a text message. She picked it up and read the screen.

"Have they found Ryan?" Warrick asked.

"No, it's Archie. He needs me in A/V."

"I'll bet he wants to propose," Greg said.

Sara laughed and shook her head. "Or to talk about the cell phone I found in Ryan's van."

"Let us know," Warrick teased.

"Oh, I will."

Sara was right. Upon arriving in Archie's lab, he immediately declared that he had discovered the owner of the cell phone.

"Megan?" Sara asked, expecting confirmation of her theory.

"Nope," Archie said, clicking to bring the owner information up on the screen. "Sheila Latham."

Sara's eyes widened. "What is Megan's best friend's cell phone doing in the front seat of her boyfriend's van?"

"_If that's your boyfriend, if that's your boyfriend_," Archie sang.

"_He wasn't last night_," they finished in unison.

"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan," Sara muttered, shaking her head. "Cheating on your girlfriend with her best friend?"

"That's low," Archie said.

"Find anything interesting on the phone?" Sara asked.

"Nope," Archie said. "Nothing aside from a bunch of text messages, but nothing that would help your investigation … unless you wanted to know about the new shoes she bought yesterday?"

"Not really," Sara said with a smile. "Thanks, Arch. This is helpful."

"Anytime."

* * *

"Hey, guys."

"Hey," Sara said, looking up as Nick walked into the break room. "How did it go at the hospital?"

"Megan's still in surgery," he replied. "I talked to Charlie, one of her friends."

"Ah, Charlie," Warrick said. "According to Ms. Kentner, he has quite the crush on Megan."

"Yeah, I picked that up," Nick said. "They live next door to each other – grew up together. He drives her to and from school every day. _Hates_ Ryan."

"I don't think he's the only one," Sara said. "I'm pretty close to jumping on that bandwagon, too."

Nick looked at Warrick with raised eyebrows. Warrick grinned.

"Sara's offended by Ryan's womanizing ways."

"Charlie said that he treats Megan terribly," Nick said.

"I can imagine," Sara said. "I think he's slept with half the senior class."

"Grissom's working on that one," Nick replied. "He attacked me as soon as I got through the door, and grabbed Megan's SAE kit. Apparently, Catherine found crabs in that sleeping bag you guys gave her to process. So, while she's locking Lindsey in the basement to keep her away from any and all sexual activity, Grissom is using Megan's pubic lice to figure out who was sleeping with whom."

"Bugs and DNA?" Warrick asked. "Man, if blood spatter is the way to Catherine's heart, that's _definitely_ the way to Grissom's."

Sara flushed slightly and looked down.

"I've got news."

Nick, Sara and Warrick all looked up as Catherine entered the room, her face quite serious. Without knowing what the news might be, Sara felt immensely grateful that Catherine had begun her proclamation before her coworkers noticed her reaction to Warrick's statement.

"What happened?" Nick asked. "Did you hear from the hospital? How's Megan?"

"No, we haven't heard anything about Megan," Catherine said. "This is about Sheila."

"Is she here?" Sara asked. "Warrick and I wanted to be part of the interrogation."

"She's here," Catherine said slowly. "She died in the waiting room at PD."

Warrick's eyes snapped closed.

"What?" Sara gasped.

"What happened?" Nick asked again.

"Grissom and Brass were headed to autopsy when I talked to them a few minutes ago. I'm sure we'll know more soon."

"The – the cops didn't …?" Nick asked hesitantly.

"Brass didn't see anyone touch her, and her mother hasn't said anything about police brutality, so I don't think they were involved."

"Well, at least there's that," Warrick said.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "But, that doesn't put us any closer to knowing what happened."

"That," Catherine said, "is why we have Doc Robbins."

* * *

As Catherine had assumed, it was the coroner who provided Sheila's cause of death. She had been hit on the top of her skull, causing her brain to hemorrhage. The hemorrhage had interrupted her brain's ability to tell her body to breathe.

Robbins also informed them that Sheila carried two secrets. She, like so many of her classmates, was infected with crabs. Grissom was quite sure he knew who had given them to her – or, to whom she had given them. The autopsy also uncovered the rather surprising news that she had swallowed a camera memory card.

"Okay, this is looking more and more like Diane is involved," Warrick said.

"Diane?" Nick asked.

"The photography teacher," Sara supplied. "Warrick is convinced she had something to do with this."

Nick's face fell. "A teacher?"

"You can't say we haven't seen it before," Warrick said.

"I know, but …"

"I've got news."

Sara, Nick and Warrick looked at Grissom with a bit of dread as he entered the room.

"Archie and Greg have viewed the contents of the camera card Sheila swallowed," he said. "Apparently, word was out that Ryan was spreading crabs around the school. At least two students tied him up and made him read a statement about being diseased while they filmed it."

"Wow," Warrick said, looking impressed. "That's some serious revenge." He gave Sara a smile. "You may have been right."

"They also referenced a Friend Agenda page in the video."

Warrick's eyes lit up. "Does he have one?"

"So it would appear."

"I'm on it. Kids will post _anything_ on those pages – you should see what Tina's niece puts on hers."

"Great," Grissom said. His phone beeped, and he picked it up to read a text message. "And, it would appear that the prints results are back on the van. I'll pick those up."

Nick's phone rang. He answered it, spoke briefly with someone, then gave them a smile as he hung up.

"Good news?" Warrick asked.

"Megan's awake. I can go talk to her."

"Okay," Grissom said. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Ryan's Friend Agenda page provided Warrick with what he had wanted since talking to Diane Kentner for the first time: A second chance to talk to her. Information on the page suggested that she had slept with Ryan. Grissom gave him even more reason to talk to her when he presented him with the fingerprint results from the van.

She denied any involvement with Ryan during the interrogation. She claimed that, while the attention was flattering – which was enough to make Warrick's stomach turn –, she would never have sex with a student. She did give a DNA sample willingly enough – Warrick held the warrant that made it mandatory, and she didn't try to fight him.

She did, however, refuse to allow him to see her car. The turn signal fragments that Nick and Greg had found at the scene of Megan's hit and run matched the type of car that Diane drove, but, without the car, they couldn't prove she had been the one to hit Megan. Warrick knew that he'd never get that warrant without further evidence; he hoped that sex with a minor would be enough to get a search warrant that could lead to her car.

* * *

DNA from the crabs proved that Ryan had, indeed, been the one to infect the school with the STD. His was the only constant in the lice taken from Megan. Her DNA, obviously, was one of the others Wendy found, but she also isolated Sheila's and Diane's, along with several unknown donors.

"So," Sara said when Grissom gave her and Warrick the news, "she _was_ sleeping with a student. Hello, Mrs. Robinson."

"I just don't get it," Warrick said with a shake of his head. "What would possess an adult to have sex with a teenager?"

"She's sick, Warrick," Grissom said. "There is no way that a sane person would do something like that."

"Yeah, I guess."

"I've got a search warrant for her house," Grissom said. "Brass is on his way there now. Wanna go along?"

"I'd love to."

* * *

While they left for the search of Diane's property, Nick interrogated Charlie. He and Archie had isolated a frame from the video that showed a mirrored image of Charlie and Sheila. They had been the ones to tie up and torture Ryan.

Charlie tearfully explained that they had done it to get back at him for what he had done to Sheila, to Megan, and to all the other girls who had fallen for his charm. They had intended to post the video on YouTube, but never for him to die. That had been an accident.

Ryan had broken free of his restraints and chased them onto the field. While Sheila teased him by putting the memory card on her tongue, he threw the camera at her. It had hit the top of her head, causing her to swallow the card – and, in the slightly longer term, to die. Once she had stopped choking, Charlie said that she shoved Ryan a bit harder than she intended; he fell into the tackling dummy head first. His throat jaggedly cut, he had bled out on the field.

Ryan and Sheila then wrapped the body in the sleeping bag, loaded it into the van, and drove it away from the school. That was all he knew, or, at least, all he was willing to tell Nick. He insisted that they had been the only two involved, and that Megan had had no part in it.

* * *

Brass discovered the address and key to a storage facility in Diane's bedroom. Calling Grissom and Warrick, he told them to change direction and to meet him there.

The storage facility was a maze of hanging sheets leading to a central point. They followed Brass and the police through the maze. They all stopped in horror as they reached the center.

Ryan's body was there, lying on a bed, covered in satin sheets.

He was not alone.

Diane's body was there, too, artfully draped over his.

Warrick stared at the bodies in horror. He had believed that Diane had been involved in the teenagers' disappearance, but never like this.

"I'm slipping, Grissom. I talked to this woman _twice_, and this body was here the whole time."

"Well, no one could have predicted this," Grissom said, unable to take his eyes from the scene in front of him – a twisted take on the ending of _Romeo and Juliet_.

Warrick finally stopped looking at their faces and noticed the pill bottle in Diane's hand. He picked it up and read the label.

"She was on a daily dose of lithium," he said. "Bipolar." He put the bottle back on the bed. "What is this, Grissom? _Romeo and Juliet_?"

Grissom had to find another explanation. He looked around at the cameras that were constantly flashing, taking pictures of the bodies. "Post-mortem photography," he said. "_Momento mori_. In the nineteenth century, a photo of a dead loved one was a popular keepsake. Death remembered. One last look."

He took his eyes from the bodies to watch the photos being displayed on the sheets that hung behind Warrick.

"Hey," he said.

Warrick turned and watched with him as Megan – not Sheila – pushed Ryan to his death.

* * *

"So, that's it, then?" Sara asked. "Megan gets away with murder?"

"You know, according to Brass, Ryan's parents said the same thing," Nick said, taking a sip of his beer.

"We all knew the DA wouldn't press charges," Grissom said. "What jury would convict a paralyzed high school senior who was recently run down by her photography teacher?"

"Megan said that Diane was obsessed with Ryan," Nick said.

"Yeah, I'd say that about sums it up," Warrick said, taking a drink from his own bottle. "I think that scene in the storage facility might just be the creepiest thing I've ever seen."

Sara, Greg and Catherine looked to Grissom for confirmation. He nodded.

"It's up there," he said.

Catherine shook her head. "Look, I know we all bitch at you when you make us stay at the lab, but, this time … I'm glad I got to play home base."

"This was a tough one," Greg agreed.

"It's always harder with kids," Grissom said.

"And, this is why we drink," Catherine said, holding up her beer bottle.

"Cheers." The team chinked their bottles together.

"So," Greg said, forcing their conversation to happier ground, "what did everyone get David and Lucy?"

As their conversation shifted to David's upcoming wedding, their spirits lifted. It was the conversation, the time spent in a bar instead of the lab, the moment of light-heartedness and the friendship that would bring them all back to work for their next shift, ready to begin again. Ready to face more horror. Facing it together made it bearable.

Even when there was no joy to be found in their job, there was always joy to be found in their friendship – in their family.


	85. True Love

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you enjoy this little bit of very holiday-appropriate fluff.

Special thanks go to aussieforgood and GSR'r, who inspired the dialogue between Sara and Brass.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!

I don't own CSI. Minimal inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 717, "Fallen Idols."

* * *

_True Love_

"Anyone up for another round?" Nick asked, putting his empty beer bottle on the table.

"Sure," Warrick and Greg said in unison.

Catherine looked at her watch. "Yeah, I'll stay a little longer."

Grissom, too, glanced at his watch. "I need to get home," he said.

"Sara?" Nick asked.

Sara glanced at Grissom. She wanted desperately to leave with him so they could have some time alone together, but, to her surprise, he gave a slight shake of his head. Trying not to frown, she nodded.

"I'll have one more drink."

"Great," Nick said, clapping his hands together. "I'll go get our drinks."

"I'll give you a hand," Warrick said, standing up with him.

"Have fun, everyone," Grissom said. "And, be careful."

"We will, boss," Greg said. "We'll make sure no one drives home drunk."

Grissom smiled. "Good. I'll see you all at work."

With that, Grissom left.

"And then there were five," Catherine said. She picked up her bottle to drain the last of her beer. "You know, we don't do this nearly often enough. We always used to go out for breakfast or drinks after shift. What happened?"

"I don't know," Greg said. "Maybe we should start again."

Sara nodded her agreement. "That would be fun."

"Excellent. We'll go out for breakfast the next time we're all done together, then," Catherine declared. "I'll make sure the other guys know, too."

"Even Grissom?" Greg teased.

"Grissom can be very sociable when he wants to be," Catherine said. "He'll come. He likes hanging out with us – even if he won't admit it."

Sara laughed at that.

"What's funny?" Nick asked as he and Warrick returned, setting new drinks in front of their friends.

"Catherine," Sara said. "She says that Grissom likes us, but he won't admit it."

"He loves us," Nick said easily. "And, I think he admits it all the time. Cath's just mad that he doesn't host a team Christmas party at his house."

"I hadn't thought of that, but it would be fun," Catherine mused.

Greg shot a glance at Sara, then looked back at Catherine. "Yeah, Cath, suggest that. See what he says."

She laughed. "No, thank you. I have a feeling that I already know _exactly_ what look I'd get."

"Yeah," Warrick grinned, "the look he usually gives Hodges."

They all laughed.

* * *

True to her word, Sara stayed to have one last drink with her friends, then went home. Her "boys" were waiting to greet her when she walked into the house. She patted Hank's head, then fell into Grissom's arms for a passionate kiss.

"_Finally_," she sighed as she broke the kiss. "Why did you want me to stay at the bar? I wanted to go home with you."

"I know," Grissom said. "But, I thought it might look suspicious if we left together. We've been doing that a lot lately. I've always left team meals and drinks early, but you usually stayed later – until recently. Besides, I figured that if I left early, I could get Hank from the sitter and get him set up here before you got home … so, we can spend our time together any way we want."

"Mm," Sara sighed, running her hands up his chest and linking them behind his neck, "I think I know _exactly_ how I want to spend our time."

Grissom grinned and let her pull him into another deep kiss. "Actually," he said against her lips, "I had another idea in mind."

Sara pulled back to look at him. "You promised we could pick up where we left off when Brass pulled you out of bed."

"I know. And, we will. But, first, there's something I want us to try."

"Okay," Sara said, dropping her arms from their place around his neck. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I was looking at that dress that you bought for David's wedding."

"And …?"

"It's beautiful, Sara. I can't wait to see you in it."

Sara grinned. She refused to try on the dress for Grissom, telling him that he'd have to wait until the day of the wedding to see it on her.

"But … I noticed that it has a very deep neckline."

Sara nodded. She knew that she didn't have much cleavage to show off, but the dress fit her beautifully.

"And …" Grissom rubbed his hand over his chin. "I'm afraid that, in my current state, I might do something that would force you to … cover up … what the dress exposes."

Sara frowned. "So, you're saying you want to shave before …?"

"Yes."

_You should have done that before I got home!_ With an impressive amount of self-control, she didn't utter the words that were screaming their way through her head. "Um … okay. So … I'll just …"

"Come with me."

Sara's frown deepened as Grissom took her hand and led her to the master bathroom. All his shaving supplies were laid out, including a straight razor that she didn't remember seeing before.

"This is new," she said, running her fingertips over the handle.

"Yes," Grissom agreed. "I bought it on the way home."

"Oh."

"Sara …" He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. "I want you to shave me."

Sara swallowed. "Shave you?"

"Yes." He pressed a kiss against her neck. "I want you to use this straight razor to shave me."

Sara shivered. How could he make such a mundane task as shaving sound so … appealing?

"Will you?" he asked, kissing her neck again.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good."

With a suddenness that surprised her, Grissom released her. Sara turned around to look at him, her eyebrows raised in an unasked question. Grissom raised an eyebrow back at her.

"Let's get to work," he said.

Sara smirked. "Okay, then. Let's do that."

She took a towel from the towel rack, folded it over, and put it on his shoulder. Grissom glanced at it, then looked back up at her. Sara smiled at him, then turned to pick up the shaving cream he had put on the counter. She took her time applying it to his beard; each swipe of her fingers across his face was given an immense amount of care.

Finally, she was satisfied with the amount of shaving cream, and turned to pick up the razor. She looked at him in the mirror; he was watching her every movement. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, half teasing, half serious. She was about to come at his face with a straight razor – if he had any doubts, they had hit his final chance to back out.

Grissom remained silent as Sara turned to face him. She closed the distance between them, stopping well inside his personal space. Still, she did not raise the razor to his face. She needed an answer to her question before she would begin shaving him.

Grissom gave her a look that nearly made her weak in the knees. "_Intimately_," he said in a husky voice that _did_ make her weak in the knees.

Sara held his eyes for a moment as unspoken words of trust and love passed between them. Finally, Grissom leaned his head to the side. Sara put her left hand against the side of his head and brought the razor to his cheek with her right. Grissom's eyes closed as she began to shave him.

He had known that this would not be a quick task. Sara's attention to detail meant that she would spend a great deal of time making sure that his entire face was hairless, and that his skin would remain unbroken. Never for a moment did it occur to him to worry that she would unintentionally hurt him. She would never allow it to be an option.

They both remained silent throughout the process. Sara was absorbed in her mission, and Grissom was absorbed in the feeling of being shaved by Sara. As the minutes passed, they became more and more in tune to one another. Their breathing gradually changed until their respirations matched breath for breath. Grissom found himself wondering if their hearts would eventually take on the same beat. He had never felt as close to another person as he did to Sara at that moment.

Finally, she put the razor down and took a warm, wet washcloth to his face. After cleaning off the last of the shaving cream and hair, she dried his skin and applied lotion.

Her task complete, she pressed a kiss to his chin. Her fingers continued to move across his face, relearning the feel of his bare skin.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Sara looked into his eyes. His soul was in his eyes, totally open to her, all the emotion and depth of his feelings on display for her to see. What she saw nearly took her breath away. "I love you," she whispered.

Grissom stared at her for a moment, then pulled her even closer to him, pressing his lips against hers in the gentlest, most sensuous kiss she had ever experienced.

Grissom broke the kiss long before Sara was ready. She whimpered at the loss of his lips and he smiled at her.

"I promised you I'd make it up to you for leaving when Brass called," he said quietly. "It's time for me to make good on that promise."

Taking her hand, he led her to bed.

* * *

Sara held two different necklaces, alternately placing them against her neck. Finally making up her mind, she clasped one in place and put the other back in her jewelry box.

"Sara? Are you ready? We're going to be late!"

"I'm coming!" Sara called, hoping that her voice traveled to Grissom, who was patiently waiting for her to finish getting ready.

She took one last look at herself in the mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she picked up her clutch purse and left the bedroom.

Grissom, as she expected, was standing in the living room. He was wearing his coat and holding Sara's.

"Okay," she said, walking up the steps to join him. "I'm ready."

Grissom stared at her. He took in the curly hair, the sparkling earrings and necklace, the shining eyes, the wine-colored dress with the plunging neckline, the heeled shoes … and felt his breath literally being taken away. "You are gorgeous," he said in a hoarse whisper.

Sara blushed a brilliant shade of red. "Thank you."

He held her coat for her, helping her slip into it. After settling it on her shoulders, he brushed her hair aside and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. Sara sighed with contentment.

"Come on," he said, reluctantly drawing away. "We have a wedding to attend."

* * *

Grissom and Sara arrived at the church a full fifteen minutes before the wedding was set to begin, but still had trouble finding a seat. Neither had realized how many people David and Lucy knew; they had not anticipated a packed house.

"There's Catherine," Sara whispered, pointing out their friend.

Grissom looked in the indicated direction. He spotted Catherine easily enough, seated with Nick and Greg. However, there were no other seats around them.

"Do you see Warrick?" Sara asked.

Grissom searched for a moment. "He's over there – a few rows behind the others."

It was Sara's turn to follow his directions. Warrick was sitting with Tina, but they, too, were in a full pew.

"Let's sit over there," Grissom said, pointing out a sparsely populated pew in the back of the church.

Sara nodded her agreement and followed him across the church. They took their seats, smiling at the unknown strangers around them. They were both a little disappointed; they had expected to sit with their friends for the ceremony.

After a few minutes of prelude music, the minister, David and the groomsmen made their way to the front of the church. Sara smiled at the sight of David's nervous, excited face.

"He looks happy," she whispered.

Grissom nodded.

All conversation ended as the bridesmaids began their slow march down the aisle. Everyone stood as Lucy appeared in the back of the church on her father's arm. Her eyes sparkled with tears as she processed toward David.

The ceremony, as Sara had expected, was beautiful. There was something about watching David and Lucy tearfully pledge their lives to each other that she found to be truly touching. Feeling her heart swell, she glanced at Grissom. He was staring at David and Lucy as though transfixed.

She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. Grissom glanced at her, smiling shyly. She smiled back and, to her great surprise, felt tears fill her eyes. Grissom leaned over and pressed a kiss against her temple. Sara closed her eyes, willing the tears to recede. She did not want to cry on David's special day – even if they were happy tears.

They were suddenly glad they weren't sitting with their friends.

* * *

They did, however, sit with their friends at the reception. Grissom and Sara were assigned to a table with Catherine, Nick, Greg, Brass, Warrick and Tina, and Dr. Robbins and his wife. After finding the table, they joined Brass, the only one who had already arrived, at the bar.

"Hello," he said, raising his glass of scotch in greeting. "What are you having? It's on David."

Laughing, they each ordered a glass of wine.

"You look lovely, Sara," Brass said as the bartender poured their drinks.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "You're looking quite dapper, yourself."

"Well," he said, smiling. "It _is_ a wedding."

"I can't believe we managed to pull off everyone making it tonight," Grissom said. "Ecklie was really nice about giving us all the night off for this."

"I have a feeling you'll be repaying that favor for months," Brass said with a chuckle.

"Probably," Grissom agreed. "But, for David, it's worth it."

"Speaking of favors, Jim, it was nice of you not to call Grissom in tonight," Sara said. "After you took him away from me last weekend right when we were –"

"_Sara_!" Grissom hissed.

Brass choked on his scotch. "I don't want to know, I don't want to know! I promise I'll never do it again, if that's what it takes to keep you from finishing that sentence!"

Giggling, Sara took a sip of her wine. "That's all I wanted."

Brass groaned and shook his head. He looked a Grissom. "Explain to me why you put up with this girl."

Grissom smiled. "You've got it backwards. _She_ puts up with _me_."

"And your bugs," Sara added.

"And my bugs," Grissom conceded.

Brass rolled his eyes. "Okay, I know we're at a wedding, but that's no reason to get all mushy and sentimental on me."

"We wouldn't dream of it," Sara said.

"Hey, guys."

They turned to see Greg approaching. He grinned, looking Sara up and down.

"You look stunning."

Sara flushed. "Thanks. So do you."

Greg grinned in a rather embarrassed way. "Where's everyone else?"

"We haven't seen them yet. Oh, wait – there's Nicky."

Nick spotted them and joined them, complimenting Sara as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. She giggled.

"You guys need to stop. I must not dress up enough."

"Well, darlin', this isn't exactly what you'd wear to process a crime scene," Nick said. "You see us in suits all the time for court. But … there's a big difference between your court suits and this dress."

Sara smiled. "You're right on that one."

"You'll dance with me, right, Sara?" Greg asked.

Sara laughed. "Sure, Greg. I'll dance with you." She let her eyes travel around the circle to the other men. "I'll dance with all of you."

Grissom gave her a wink. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Oh, I'll keep it," she said. "Just you wait and see."

Within a matter of minutes, they were joined by the rest of their coworkers. They were soon laughing as they shared stories of their most recent cases and the "adventures" they had encountered on their way to the wedding – which ranged from Catherine allowing Lindsey to style her hair to Warrick and Tina forgetting their gift for David and Lucy and returning home to retrieve it between the ceremony and the reception.

Sara stood leaning up against the bar next to Grissom. She was barely aware of the fact that he had his arm resting on the bar behind her, his fingers lightly stroking her arm. She was engrossed in her conversation with Greg and Nick, who were trying to beat each other to tell her funniest parts of their case that involved a dead pimp and the three very petite – yet creative – prostitutes who had killed him.

The story ended, and Nick frowned. Sara frowned at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Do Warrick and Tina look … like they've been fighting?"

Sara and Greg both looked at Warrick and Tina. Although they were standing next to each other, they were both quite rigid and seemed to be avoiding eye contact.

"Maybe they were fighting about the present," Greg suggested. "You know, one of those 'you said you would bring it' sort of arguments."

"Maybe …"

Something in Nick's tone made Sara look at him closely. As their eyes met, they both realized that they were the only two who knew of the tension in Warrick's marriage.

"Have you talked to him recently?" Sara asked quietly.

Nick shook his head. "I don't want to ask, and he hasn't brought it up. You?"

"Same."

He sighed. "I wish he _would_ talk about it. I think it would help, you know?"

"Yeah."

Greg's head swiveled between them as though he were watching a tennis match. "Are you talking actually talking in _code_?"

"Nah," Nick said with a grin. "_Code_ would involve made up words."

"Or, at the very least, complex number sequences," Sara added.

"You should have heard some of the codes my sister Melissa and I had when we were little," Nick said, laughing at the memory. "No one ever had a clue what we were talking about. It made our entire family nuts!"

Greg shook his head. "I'm not sure if this makes me happy or sad that I'm an only child."

Sara and Nick looked at each other and exchanged a grin.

Grissom's fingers tightened around Sara's arm, capturing her attention. She jumped slightly and turned to look at him.

"Hi," she said slowly.

"Hi," he replied with a smile. "They're asking us to sit down so they can introduce David and Lucy."

"Oh," Sara said. "Well, then, to the table. Come on, guys."

After the introductions of the bridal party and the newlyweds, David and Lucy shared their first dance. As they sat down to the applause of their guests, the wait staff began serving dinner.

The meal was a lively affair. Out of respect for Tina and Judy, Doc Robbins's wife, they kept the lab-related discussions to a minimum. Remembering David's words about turning his in-laws off with descriptions of his job, Sara figured that it was for the best that they keep talking about current entertainment news – a topic introduced by Greg.

Once the last dishes were cleared away, Grissom's arm found its away across the back of Sara's chair. Without really thinking about it, she leaned into him as the group continued to talk.

The dance music began again, and the bridal party took the floor. Taking their cue, the guests began to join them. Greg looked at Sara.

"You promised me a dance," he said.

Sara grinned. "So soon?"

"Eh, just get it over with," Nick said.

Sara laughed and stood up, taking Greg's offered hand. "I'd love to dance with you."

Greg grinned and led her to the floor just as a slow song began.

"So," he said as they began to dance, "exactly how much did you and Grissom drink tonight?"

Sara looked at him in complete confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You've been touching each other all night. I know you two, and I know you never do things like that in front of us. You must have been hitting the bottle pretty hard."

Sara was torn between horror and amusement at his words. "I've had two glasses of wine," she said. "I think he's had two … maybe three … Oh, God, Greg, do you think that anyone else noticed?"

"Doubtful," he said. "I know that Catherine's been drinking since she got here, so I doubt she's at her most observant right now. Nick would notice but never realize what's going on – you know he only sees what he wants to see."

Sara nodded with a smile. "I love him," she said, "but, he can be clueless when he wants to be."

Greg nodded. "And, Warrick and Tina are too wrapped up in being angry with each other to notice anyone else."

Sara sighed. "They do look upset, don't they?"

"What's going on there, Sar?"

She shook her head. "I wish I knew. I'm worried about them."

"I think we all are."

The song ended, and Sara and Greg released each other. Sara barely had time to suggest going back to the others when she felt Grissom's touch on her back. She turned to him with a smile.

"May I have this dance?"

"Of course," Sara said, taking his offered hand.

Grissom held her much closer than Greg had as they danced to Frank Sinatra. Sara smiled shyly at him.

"Are you having fun?" he asked.

"So much," she replied. "This is even more fun than Mary's wedding was – this time, I have you here with me."

Grissom smiled and kissed the hand he held in his. "I'm glad we're here together, too. Even if I did have to watch Greg dance with you first."

Sara giggled. "Jealous?"

"Maybe a little."

She laughed again. "You have no reason to be jealous. Ever."

"I know," he replied. "And, I'm not. It's nice to know that my girlfriend is so beautiful that all the other men here want to dance with her, too."

Sara threw back her head and laughed. "Stop trying so hard. We both know you're going to have a _very_ good evening."

Grissom laughed with her. "Are you saying that I might get lucky tonight?"

Mildly surprised by his word choice, Sara wondered if he was as tipsy as Greg had suggested. She gave him a coy smile. "May-be," she said slowly, teasingly.

Grissom tightened his hold on her waist. "Don't make me take you home early," he said. "It would be so easy to tell them that we were called to a scene …"

Sara laughed. "Don't," she said. "I want to stay longer."

Grissom smiled. "I do, too."

They continued dancing as the song ended and the next one began. Nick and Catherine joined them on the dance floor, forcing Grissom to loosen his grip on Sara as the other couple began a conversation with them while they danced.

Doc Robbins and his wife were left alone at the table as the others either headed for the dance floor or the bar. Judy leaned closer to her husband, resting her hand on his leg.

"Your friends are wonderful," she said.

Doc smiled. "I'll keep them."

"Grissom and Sara …" she continued. "How long have they been together?"

Al turned to her in shock. "What did you say?"

"I just asked how long Grissom and Sara have been together," she repeated. "They make a lovely couple."

"But, they're not – they're colleagues –"

"Al," Judy interrupted with a patient smile, "I've been watching them all night. They are clearly a couple. Just look at them right now! Look how closely they're dancing!"

He followed her line of vision to see Grissom and Sara dancing. They were quite a bit closer than Catherine and Nick were. As he watched, Grissom said something that made Sara laugh. As her laughter subsided, she looked into his eyes and inched even closer to him. Grissom's hand came up to stroke her cheek lightly, then dropped back to her waist. Al's mouth dropped open.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said. "They fooled us all."

The song ended, and Grissom and Nick switched partners. Sara and Grissom shared a parting glance that promised something special for _later_ before turning to their new partners. Doc chuckled as he watched them.

"Good for them," he whispered, smiling. "Good for them."


	86. Emotional

A/N: I know this is way late. If you had any idea how hellish my last couple weeks have been, you'd be amazed that I have it done this week at all! But, here it is, and I'm rather proud of this newest chapter. I think you'll like it – especially if you like your updates on the long side!

Special thanks to aussieforgood for her input on Warrick for this chapter. You're so freakin' insightful!

Thanks for reading and reviewing. I really hope you like this one.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 718, "Empty Eyes." I also claim no ownership of _The English Patient_, _Seinfeld_, or Netflix.

* * *

_Emotional_

"Okay, did you pick a movie?"

Grissom nodded and held up a DVD. "We're going to watch _The English Patient_."

Sara groaned as she sat down on the couch, putting a large bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. "Griss, I don't want to watch that! How do we even have it?"

"Sara, you admitted that you've never seen it. It's not fair to base your opinion of a movie on the opinion a fictional character has of that movie."

She rolled her eyes. "Hey, if Elaine didn't like it, it's good enough for me."

"Well," Grissom said, sliding the DVD into the player, "just as J. Peterman made her watch it, your boss is making you watch it."

Sara shook her head. "This is why I hate having dates with my boss."

Grissom smiled. "I don't know if 'movie night in' counts as a date."

"Oh, it counts," Sara said.

Grissom sat down with her and grabbed the popcorn bowl, putting it in his lap. Sara snuggled against him and helped herself to a handful of popcorn.

"Hey, you never answered my question."

"Which one might that be?"

"How did we end up with this movie?"

Grissom smiled sheepishly. "I may have moved it to the top of our queue while you were at work last week …"

"I knew I couldn't leave you alone," Sara said, shaking her head. "This is why it's better when we're off together."

"Technically, you're off. I'm on call."

"No one will call," Sara said, waving her hand dismissively. "I've already talked to the criminals of Las Vegas. They've agreed that we deserve a date night."

"Good," Grissom said, putting his arm around her to pull her closer. "I think we deserve a date night, too."

As if on cue, Grissom's phone rang. He and Sara looked at each other in disbelief. Grissom sighed, pulled away from Sara, and picked up his phone.

"It's Brass," he told her, flipping it open.

"Of course it is," Sara sighed.

"Grissom," he said into the phone.

"Hey, Gil, it's me," Brass said. "I'm sorry to call you in, but we've got a multiple homicide in a residential area."

"Okay," Grissom agreed. "Who else is there?"

"Warrick's en route right now. Catherine's got everyone else out on different cases."

"What's going on?" Sara asked.

Grissom held up his hand to hold off her questions. "Okay. I'll call Warrick and tell him I'll meet him there."

"Great," Brass said shortly. "Is that Sara I hear in the background?"

"Yes," Grissom said. "She's being nosy. Digging for information about my case."

"Oh. Um. Well. I'll let you go, then. I'll see you at the scene."

Grissom laughed, realizing why Brass had suddenly become so awkward. "Okay, Jim. I'll see you there."

Hanging up his phone, he looked at Sara and started laughing again. She frowned.

"What's so funny?"

"Brass," he replied. "Remember what you said to him at David's wedding?"

Sara frowned for a moment, then grinned at the memory. "Oh, yeah."

"He heard you in the background. Judging by how quickly he got off the phone, I think he may be afraid he _interrupted_ something."

"Well, he did," Sara said, giggling. "So much for our date night."

"We'll take a rain check," Grissom promised, leaning in to kiss her. "I've got to go. Multiple homicide."

"Sounds like fun," Sara said. "Do you need me?"

"I won't know until I get there," Grissom said as he climbed off the couch to find his shoes and kit.

"Okay," she agreed, getting up to take the DVD out of the player.

"And, Sara?" he called as he walked toward the bedroom.

"Yeah?"

"Don't even think about sending back that movie until we've seen it!"

"Damn," she giggled, pulling the DVD back out of the envelope that would be used to return it. "How does he do that?"

"Did you say something?"

"No," Sara called. "I was just putting the DVD away."

Grissom reappeared, wearing his shoes and carrying his kit. "I am sorry, Sara. I know we had planned to spend tonight together."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "It's not like you asked Brass to call you. It's just … the job."

"Yeah," he agreed. He leaned in to kiss her. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Be careful."

"I will," he promised. "You, too."

"Yeah," Sara laughed. "My laptop might just attack me while you're gone."

"You never know."

She shook her head. "Bye, dear."

Grissom smiled and blew her a kiss from the doorway. "Bye."

* * *

"Hey."

Grissom turned to see Warrick walking toward him from the opposite end of the street. They met in the center at the driveway of the house that had become their crime scene.

"Hello," he replied. "Just you and me, huh?"

"Yup," Warrick said cheerfully. "Catherine's a taskmaster. I think she's got everyone solo tonight."

"Busy night," Grissom said, holding up the crime scene tape to let Warrick pass before him.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Hello, gentlemen," Brass greeted them. "Welcome to the longest night of your lives."

"That doesn't sound good," Warrick said with a groan. "How many bodies?"

"According to the boyfriend of one of the victims, six."

"_Six_?" Warrick exclaimed. "What did they do, kill everyone the homeowner knew?"

"There were six showgirls living in the house," Brass explained. "One girl's boyfriend came to visit tonight and found the bodies. Well … at least some of them. I think he saw the first couple and ran to call 911."

"Smart," Grissom said. "Has the house been cleared?"

"Yeah. My guys didn't do a body count, though. I'll leave it to you two to confirm that all six girls are dead."

Grissom nodded. "Well, let's get started."

A quick survey of the house revealed that the girls' bodies had been left in three bedrooms. They counted five bodies; one girl must not have come home.

"This place is a mess," Warrick said, stepping carefully around a blood trail. "It's going to take us forever to process all these bodies, the entire house and the perimeter."

"We're going to need more help," Grissom said.

"You've got that right," Warrick agreed. "Who are we calling?"

"Everyone."

"Everyone?"

"I don't care what other cases we have tonight," Grissom said. "This place is a massacre. I need everyone here."

* * *

Sara felt like she had just kissed Grissom goodbye when her phone rang. She shook her head as his name appeared in the display.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey," he replied. "I'm really sorry, but would you mind coming to the scene?"

"Spend my night off at work?" Sara teased. "I'd love to."

"Hey, I know you don't have better plans," Grissom replied, his own tone teasing. He became serious again as he continued, "I've got multiple dead showgirls in this house. Warrick and I need all hands on deck."

"Showgirls?"

"Roommates," Grissom clarified. "Can you join us?"

"I'm on my way."

* * *

The house seemed odd, somehow. Sara had been in hundreds of different homes that had become crime scenes during her career, but this one felt different. She couldn't define it, exactly, but knew that something was off when the ringing of the phone made her jump.

It was almost a relief to reach the second floor and find Warrick snapping photos of a dead body. She shone her flashlight into the bedroom, alerting him to her presence. He looked up from his task, smiling slightly at her.

"Hell of a way to spend your night off," he said in greeting.

Sara barely heard his comment; she was already taking in the scene. The bound, bloody bodies seemed to dominate the room. "How many bodies do you have in here?"

"Three," Warrick replied. "Grissom's down the hall. First door on your right. Just follow the blood."

Realizing that there was more horror in store for her, Sara followed Warrick's instructions. She found Grissom, as promised, in the next bedroom. He was crouched down over another body.

Somehow, just seeing him made her feel better. As she had done with Warrick, Sara shone her flashlight beam into the room ahead of her.

"My date got cancelled," she said.

Grissom looked up at her with a smile, shining his own flashlight to illuminate her. "I'm sure he had a good excuse," he said.

Sara stepped carefully into the room. She studied at the body on the bed. "Looks like sexual assault," she said. "Bound … pants pulled down."

"Yeah," Grissom agreed a bit sadly.

"Where do you want me?" Sara asked.

"Next bedroom," Grissom replied. "There's another body in there."

"That makes five," Sara mused. "The dispatch said there were six."

Grissom repeated what Brass had told him and Warrick about the girls, ending with their observation that one of the girls had not come home.

"She picked the right night," Sara said.

Grissom nodded grimly.

"I guess I'll be next door, then," she said, turning to leave.

"I'll be in here if you need me."

She smiled and left him alone.

The victim in her bedroom, much like the ones in the other rooms, was lying on the bed in the fetal position. Her hands were bound behind her back, and she was gagged. Sara could see immediately that her throat had been cut. She assumed that the other girls had had similar ends. She did note that this girl was still wearing her pants; perhaps she had escaped being sexually assaulted.

Surveying the room further, she noticed blood that appeared to be coming from under the second bed. Frowning, she knelt down on the floor next to the bed. She put her flashlight on the floor as she leaned forward until she was almost lying down to look under the bed.

A hand lashed out, fingernails clawing at her face.

"Hot scene!" Sara yelled, jumping back and immediately grabbing her gun. "Suspect under the bed!"

Grissom was there in an instant, utter terror on his face. "Sara?" he exclaimed.

Sara bent forward again, holding her gun on the person under the bed.

"Sara!" Grissom's tone was a warning tinged with fear, but Sara ignored him.

Gasping sobs reached her. She moved her gun aside as the bound, bloody girl came into view.

"Please," she sobbed. "Please – help – m-m-me."

Sara put her gun down and threw herself flat on the floor so she could reach her. "Hold on," she said. "Victim down," she called up to Grissom. "Call an ambulance."

While Grissom radioed for paramedics, Sara reached for the girl's hand. "You're safe now," she said. "It's gonna be okay."

"Help," she gasped out. "H-help me."

"I'm gonna help you," Sara promised. "The paramedics are on their way. They'll take care of you."

"Help," the girl said again.

"Let me get you out of there," Sara said, crawling farther under the bed.

It was a difficult task, but she managed to slide the young woman out from under the bed. As soon as she could reach her neck, Sara pressed her hand against the gaping wound, trying to stop the bleeding. The girl looked up at Sara's face.

"S-s-sorry," she said. "Scratch. Th-thought you … him …"

Sara brushed at her cheek, realizing for the first time that she, too, was bleeding. "It's okay," she said. "Everything's okay. Can you tell me your name?"

"C-ca-mm-Cammie."

"Cammie," Sara repeated. "I'm Sara. Who did this to you, Cammie?"

"M-man," Cammie struggled to say.

"The man," Sara repeated. "What did he look like?"

"Por – w – por – wine."

Sara shook her head, completely confused.

"Birth m – birth m …"

"He – he stabbed you in the chest?" Sara asked, grasping at straws.

"No," Cammie said empathetically, shaking her head as best she could.

"I need some help here!" Sara yelled, hoping that Grissom would suddenly appear with the paramedics.

Cammie began to gasp, fighting for breath.

"Stay with me, Cammie," Sara urged, holding her hand even tighter.

"But – Fynn …" Cammie expelled all the breath from her body in a gasping sound.

"No," Sara whispered desperately. "_No_."

She watched as the life left Cammie's eyes. Tears welled up in hers.

She was never sure how long she sat cradling Cammie's head before Grissom brought the paramedics into the room. He stopped in the doorway and stared at Sara. The sight of her sitting with a bowed head confirmed what had happened before her words did.

"Sara?" he asked.

She looked up at him with teary eyes. She held his eyes for a moment, then looked at the paramedics who stood just behind him. "They can pronounce," she said.

She eased Cammie's head onto the floor and left the room.

Warrick was standing in the hallway. "You okay, little girl?"

"Yeah," Sara said. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, she began to shake. Grissom, who was standing behind her, took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go outside. You need some fresh air."

Sara nodded, and allowed him to lead her away. They passed Nick on the stairs; he gave them an odd look, but continued to the second floor.

"What's going on?" he asked Warrick, nodding toward Grissom and Sara.

"Sara found one of the victims alive," Warrick said. "She was hiding under the bed. Sara pulled her out and sat with her until the paramedics came."

"Wow," Nick said. "She doesn't look very happy."

"Yeah, well, the girl died in her arms."

Nick's face fell. "My God. Is she okay?

Warrick shrugged. "She said she's fine, but she started shaking. Grissom's taking her outside for a breather."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Nick said. "Man, that poor girl must have been terrified. To know that your friends are dead and to stay in the house, waiting to die … I'm glad Sara found her before she died."

"She gave Sara a scare when she found her." Warrick ran his hands over his face. "Man, Nicky, it was so … I was processing my bedroom, and I heard Sara scream that the suspect was under the bed. I've never been so scared. Grissom was closer, so he got there first, but I was right behind him with my gun drawn. I just … Nicky, I kept thinking about Holly. About what it must have been like for her to find a suspect at the scene. She didn't have anyone there to help her, all because I …"

"Hey," Nick said, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a rough shake, "don't do that, Warrick. There's nothing you can do … nothing you could have done. There were uniforms at the scene, but they couldn't save her."

"But, I –"

"You made a mistake," Nick acknowledged. "But, it was a long time ago, and you've learned from it. You were ready to risk your life for Sara tonight. You'd do the same for any one of us. You're a great CSI, Warrick, and a great person. You can't let what happened to Holly define you."

Warrick nodded. "Thanks, Nick. I'm sorry about all this. It's just …"

"It's not a problem," Nick said. He cleared his throat. "So. What do you need me to do?"

"Grissom and I have the bedrooms," Warrick said, slipping back into work mode along with Nick. "Want to start on the hallway and stairs?

"You've got it."

* * *

Grissom led Sara outside and down the driveway. Brass looked at them questioningly.

"What's going on?" he asked. "How's the girl?"

Grissom shook his head. "She didn't make it."

Brass shook his head. "Were you with her, Sara?"

"Yes," she said.

"Sara, maybe you should go home," Grissom said. "Nick's already here, and Greg and Catherine are en route. We can do this without you."

"No," she said quickly. "No, I'm fine. I want to stay. I want to finish the case." _I _have_ to finish this case. I owe it to Cammie._

Grissom looked at Brass for a minute, then back at Sara. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

He sighed. "Okay," he said, leaving no question that he was letting her stay against his better judgment. "But … stay out here with Brass for a few minutes, okay?"

"Okay," Sara agreed.

Grissom held her eyes for another moment, then returned to the house. Brass stood next to Sara in silence for a moment. They watched as Greg arrived. He made his way through the reporters and police officers, finally ducking under the crime scene tape. He looked at them with questions in his eyes, but continued walking. It was obvious that something had happened to Sara, and just as obvious that she wasn't ready to talk to him.

"Look, I know this is tough, but did she give you anything?" Brass asked, breaking the silence.

"She told me her name," Sara said haltingly. She swallowed. "When I went into the room, she thought that I was him."

"Oh," Brass said. "Anything else?"

Sara shook her head, mentally going over her short conversation with Cammie. "It didn't make any sense."

"Okay," Brass said. "Listen, if any of it does make sense – if things come together while you're processing …"

"I know," Sara said. She hugged Grissom's jacket tighter around her.

Brass looked at her for a minute. "Sara … maybe Grissom's right. Maybe you should call it a day. It was supposed to be your day off, wasn't it?"

She shook her head. "I can't quit now."

"Okay. Just … take it easy, okay?"

"I will." She looked down, realizing for the first time that her clothes were covered in blood – Cammie's blood. She shut her eyes for a minute, trying to stop her head from spinning.

"Sara?"

"I – I need to change. My clothes are evidence."

She left Brass standing alone and went to her car to get her coveralls. She grabbed her own forensics jacket, thinking that she'd give Grissom's back to him.

Before she went inside to change, she hugged Grissom's jacket one last time, burying her face in it. She knew he'd give her all the support she'd need. She was just afraid that in admitting that she needed that support, she'd also tell him that she shouldn't be on the case. And, that was unthinkable. She needed to solve this for Cammie. And, to do that, she needed to be strong enough to convince Grissom that she was fine, that Cammie's death had not affected her.

She could do it. Hiding her feelings wasn't that hard.

With that decision made, she went inside to change.

* * *

"Hey," Grissom said, looking up as Sara walked into his bedroom.

"Hi," she replied. She held out her jacket. "I found my own. I thought you might want yours back."

"Thanks," he replied, slipping it on.

"I'm going to go finish my bedroom."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to, Sara. I can have Greg do it."

"No, Griss, I want to."

Seeing the determination in her eyes, he nodded. "Okay. But, once you're done, take the perimeter."

Sara's immediate thought was that she should fight him on it, but, seeing the determination in _his_ eyes, she changed her mind. "Okay."

Grissom gave her a slight smile. "Let me know if you need me."

"I will."

Sara left him alone and walked to the next bedroom. She took a deep breath, surveying the changes since she had walked in for the first time.

Cammie's body was still in the middle of the floor. Mindless of the body on the bed, Sara knelt down next to Cammie.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you the way I promised. But, I'll do my best to help you now. I'll find the man, Cammie. I'll find him, and I'll make sure he pays for what he did to you and your friends."

Feeling slightly better, she began to take pictures.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

After finishing the bedroom, Sara went outside to start processing the perimeter. She didn't find much that would be useful until she hit the back of the house. A chair on the patio caught her eye because it looked so very out of place. As she drew closer, she saw that it _was_ out of place – it had been shoved under the doorknob to make sure that the girls wouldn't be able to escape through the backdoor.

She took photos and fingerprints, then wrapped the chair in plastic and tape, sealing it as evidence. She finally opened the door and found herself walking into the kitchen, which Nick was processing. He gave her a slight smile in greeting.

"He used a chair to jam this door," Sara said as she shut the door behind her.

"I heard about what happened," Nick said. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

Nick saw through her words in a second – her tone was enough to tell him that she was anything but fine. But, she clearly wasn't ready to talk, and he would never push her. His best bet was to keep it about work and wait for her to open up.

"There's a custom-made label on the wine bottle over there," he said, turning back to his task.

Sara stepped away to look at the bottle. She knelt down and picked it up.

"'Love, Lewis,'" she said, reading the label aloud.

Cammie's face suddenly filled her mind. She could hear the young woman gasping something about wine …

"Cammie said something," she said. "'Pour wine?' Maybe it had something to do with this bottle." She shook her head and looked at the bottle again. "Pour wine …"

"Maybe he forced wine down her throat," Nick suggested. "Tox will tell us."

Sara nodded and set the bottle down.

"It was good that you were there for her, Sara," Nick said.

Sara looked up at him, holding his eyes.

"She didn't have to die alone," he continued.

"We usually show up to late to meet the victim," Sara said.

Nick nodded, turning slightly before realizing that the utter misery in her face said she needed more from him. He turned back to look at her. "We'll solve this, Sara," he said. "We'll find the man who did this to her and make sure he's punished for it."

Sara nodded. "I just wish we didn't have to." She stood up. "Have you done the trashcans yet?"

"Not yet."

"I'll take those."

Nick watched her for a moment, then resumed his photo documentation.

They worked in silence until David came down the stairs, carefully supporting one end of a gurney. Sara and Nick exchanged a look.

"You're transporting them?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, Grissom finally said it was okay to take them," David replied.

"Who's going with you?" Sara asked.

David shrugged. "Grissom, I guess."

She looked at Nick. "I'm going to talk to him," she said. "I want to go."

"Sara …"

"I need to do this, Nick."

"If you're sure …"

"I'm sure."

"Okay," he said with a slight sigh. "Listen, Sara, if you need me for anything at all, just call, okay?"

"I will," she promised.

Without giving him time to try to dissuade her from going back with the bodies, Sara went upstairs in search of Grissom. She found him talking to Catherine about something she had found in the bathroom.

"Can I go back with the bodies?" she asked.

Grissom looked at her in surprise. "I was going to go."

"Please, Griss," she said. "I need to do this."

Grissom held her eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

Sara hurried down the stairs again. Catherine looked at Grissom with raised eyebrows.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"If she says she needs to do it, she needs to do it," he said with a finality that would have made any other member of his team drop the issue.

"Gil. Don't you think Sara's been through enough tonight? Processing the bodies in the morgue isn't going to make it better."

"I think it'll be therapeutic for her."

Catherine shook her head in disbelief. "_Therapeutic_ is a day at a spa, not a morning in a morgue!"

"Everyone handles stress differently, Catherine."

"I didn't realize you were a therapist."

"I didn't realize you were Sara's mother."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm just worried that she's taking on too much with this case. I'd say that having a victim die in her arms is enough for one night."

"She wants to do it."

Realizing that she had lost, Catherine shook her head. "Gil, never have children. You'd never be able to tell them no."

Grissom smiled slightly and shook his head. "Thanks for the advice, Catherine."

* * *

Sara and David worked together to process and prep the bodies for autopsy, but it still took hours. David called in another assistant coroner to help. He hated having bodies stacked up in the hallway.

Doc Robbins got to work as soon as the first body was ready, so he was ready to report his findings shortly after Sara and David finished working. Sara was glad. She didn't think she'd be able to handle waiting around to hear what he had to say. It would give her too much time to think.

After getting the autopsy reports, she found herself walking to Grissom's office. She needed to give him the reports, but, if she were honest with herself, she wanted to see him. She needed to feel his love and support wrap around her like a warm blanket.

"Hey."

Grissom looked up from the photos Catherine had provided to go along with her blood analysis. "Hi."

Sara sat down in the chair Catherine had recently vacated. "I just got the autopsy report from Doc Robbins."

Grissom nodded, urging her to continue. "Tell me."

Sara drew a deep breath. "All the girls were bound with the sheets you and Greg found at the scene. Greg took the knots and is processing them. Two of the girls likely had consensual sex before the attacks. Five of the girls died of blood loss due to incised wounds to the neck. Jen also had cracked ribs. Becca was sexually assaulted – no semen – and had multiple stab wounds to the chest. The tip of the knife broke off in one of her ribs; Doc extracted it and I left it with Hodges."

"Sara …"

"Yeah?"

He paused, trying to phrase his question in a way that wouldn't upset her. "Are you sure you should still be here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've done an incredible job tonight, but … if you need some time to go home and sleep, it's fine. You can take it."

"I want to finish this case, Gil," she said evenly. "I don't need to go home. I'm fine."

He held her eyes for a long minute. "You're sure?"

"Sara, there you are!"

They both turned as Nick walked into the office.

"You were looking for me?" Sara asked.

"Yeah. I found that Lewis from the label on the wine bottle. Brass is bringing him in right now. Wanna come to PD with me for the interrogation?"

"Yes," Sara said at once, jumping up from her seat.

"Sara …" Grissom said.

She looked back at him. "I'll leave the autopsy reports with you," she said. "You can call Doc if you have any questions."

He nodded, suddenly feeling completely helpless. He knew she was spiraling out of control with this case, and he was powerless to stop her. He should have driven her home himself after Cammie had died. But, no, if he had done that, she would never have forgiven him. It was better this way.

"Griss?" she asked. "Was there something else?"

Realizing that he was staring at her, he shook his head and cleared his throat. "No. I'm sorry." He gave her a slight smile. "I'll see you when I see you."

Sara nodded. "I'll see you when I see you," she said quietly before turning to join Nick in the hallway.

* * *

"What do we know?" Sara asked as she and Nick drove to PD.

"Lewis Greyburg wrote a story about the girls for the _Las Vegas Globe_," he said. "Archie found it in the digital archives."

"How long ago?"

"A couple months," he said. He passed her a folder. "Here. Read it on the way over."

Sara began reading as instructed. She finished just as Nick pulled into a parking space.

"Well?" he asked, turning in his seat to look at her.

"He paints them as a bunch of airheads," she said.

Nick nodded. "I wonder why they'd agree to be photographed outside their house like that," he said. "It's just inviting predators. They might as well have left the key in the door."

Sara shook her head. "When you live in a safe neighborhood, you don't think things like this could happen. Everyone believes it only happens in the ghetto."

"Yeah," Nick agreed, opening his door. "Someone needs to get the word out that that's not the case. My last six cases were in pricy suburbs."

Brass was waiting for them in the lobby. He smiled in greeting, and gave Sara a piercing look.

"Shouldn't you be at home?"

Sara sighed. "I'm finishing the case, Jim."

He shook his head, clearly displeased with her decision. "We picked up Mr. Greyburg at home. He's in interrogation, waiting for you."

"Great," Sara said.

"With counsel?" Nick guessed.

"No," Brass said. "He waived his right to an attorney."

Nick frowned. "Now, why would he do that?"

"Well, it's been my experience that only two people will do that," Brass said. "The very innocent, or the very delusional. The ones with nothing to hide, or the ones with so much to hide that they assume we'll never find it."

"And, this one?" Sara asked.

"I reserve the right to judge until after the interrogation."

Sara and Nick exchanged a look, then left for the interrogation room. They entered together. Lewis gave them a slight smile.

"Hello."

"Mr. Greyburg, do you know why you're here?" Sara asked, sitting down across from him and pulling two pictures of the wine bottle they had recovered at the crime scene out of her folder.

"Well, from what I've been told, it's about the girls who were killed," he said. "I did an article about them a few months ago. I suppose you have some questions about them or their habits …"

Sara looked at Nick.

"So, Mr. Greyburg, you don't want a lawyer?" he asked, crossing to sit down on the bench behind them.

"Why would I want a lawyer?" he asked. He looked at the pictures Sara had placed on the table. "I sent the wine over to express my gratitude for their cooperation on the article."

"How did you get to know them?" Nick asked.

"I followed them around for a week as part of my research. They were nice kids. Big hearts."

Sara looked down at the article she was holding in her hands. "It's an airhead piece," she said.

Nick covered his mouth to hide his smile.

"My editor gave me an angle; I ran with it. But, those girls raised twelve _thousand_ dollars for a fellow showgirl with breast cancer. They organized their own walk-a-thon. Gave out swag bags … kitchen stuff," he finished with a smile.

"What kind of kitchen stuff?" Sara asked.

"Uh…cutting board. Juicer. Kitchen knife."

If he kept talking, Sara didn't know it. Cammie filled her mind again, her voice ringing in Sara's ears. She had tried so hard to tell her something …

"Sara?" Nick asked, breaking her trance.

She jumped slightly as she came back into the moment. "What did the knife look like?"

"It had a purple handle, embossed with the name of their friend and the date. It was ceramic."

Nick looked at the man's shoes; he was displaying the sole of one by crossing his ankle over the opposite leg.

"Killer shoes," he said. "There were multiple shoe impressions in blood at the house that looked just like those."

Lewis's face twisted as he realized what they thought. "Wait – whoa, whoa, whoa. Look, I didn't kill those girls!"

"Where were you last night, Mr. Greyburg?" Sara asked.

"I was at home. Alone. Working on my novel."

"Prove it," Nick said, standing up. "We'll take your little ceramic knife, give us your shoes, and we'll take a sample of your DNA."

"You can have whatever you want," he said. He looked at Sara again, and felt distinctly uncomfortable under her accusing stare. "Just … stop looking at me that way."

Nick looked at Sara. "Sara, do you want to ask Brass to escort Mr. Greyburg home to get his knife?"

"Sure," she said.

She stepped into the hall, where Brass almost immediately met her.

"Hey," he said. "Do you like him for this?"

"You clearly watched it," Sara said, smiling slightly. "What do you think?"

"He did seem shocked that you would think he'd hurt the girls," he said. "All the same … I'll take him home to get the knife as soon as Nick's done getting his DNA and shoes."

"Thanks," Sara said.

Nick joined them a moment later carrying a brown paper bag that clearly held Lewis's shoes.

"Okay, Brass, he's all yours," he said.

"Oh, goody," Brass said sardonically.

He went into the interrogation room, leaving Nick and Sara alone. Nick held Sara's eyes for a moment. She sighed.

"You think I went too far."

"No," Nick said, "no, I wasn't thinking that at all. Honestly, I think you showed a lot of restraint … even if that look you gave him did make _me_ shake a little."

Sara smiled slightly. "Nicky … if he killed those girls …"

"I know," Nick said, steering her toward the door so they could go back to the lab. "Sara, you're doing great with this case. You really are."

"Thanks, Nick." She sighed. "I just hope it's good enough."

* * *

While Sara and Nick were busy proving that Lewis Greyburg had not killed the girls – his shoes didn't match the impressions Nick had from the house and his knife was still intact – Greg and Wendy proved that the killer had forced the girls to tie each other up. He took the news to Grissom, who, after his recent conversation with the Sheriff, was in his office dreading the moment when he would see Greg.

"Thanks," Grissom said after Greg finished giving his report.

"It was all Wendy," Greg said, turning to leave.

Grissom mentally sighed. Better sooner than later, better quick than slow … "Hey, Greg?"

Greg spun around again and reentered the room.

"The, uh, civil suit that was filed by the Demetrius James family … DA decided not to go to trial, so the city's agreed to a payout. Two point five million."

"Two point five million?" Greg exclaimed, utterly shocked.

Grissom nodded slightly.

"That's like saying I'm the guilty one!"

"It's just … political pragmatism. City wants to cut their loses."

"So, they did throw me under the bus."

Grissom shrugged slightly, nodding again. "Comes with the job."

Greg exhaled and turned to leave the office again. This time, Grissom didn't stop him.

He walked slowly toward the break room and nearly ran into Catherine.

"Whoa," she said. "What's got you so upset? You look like you've lost your best friend."

"Grissom just told me that the city is paying Demetrius James's family 2.5 million rather than go to trial over the civil suit they filed."

Catherine's face fell. "Oh, Greggie."

"Everyone keeps saying that I was in the right," he said. "But, I think the city just gave everyone 2.5 million reasons to believe I killed a man in cold blood."

"No, Greg," Catherine said firmly. "_No_. It wasn't like that, and we all know it. Look, Demetrius James's family is hurting. They lost a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew, a grandson … But, the thing is, based on how he was acting, they lost him long before you ever even had the chance to meet him. Whether they knew it or not, he was gone from the first time he went out to beat up a tourist."

"Yeah," Greg said quietly. "But, does that mean he deserved to die?"

"Did you?" Catherine asked bluntly. "Did Stanley Tanner? Because, it was the two of you or him. And, I know you didn't mean to kill him. You did what you had to do to save yourself and the victim. You need to stop beating yourself up over this."

"That's going to be a lot harder to do now. And, Cath, I hate to say this, but knowing that he wasn't the nicest of people doesn't make it all that much easier."

Catherine gave him a motherly look as she took his arm. "Come on, Greg."

"Where are we going?"

"We're going out for breakfast. My treat. Grissom won't miss us if we aren't gone long."

Greg smiled slightly. He knew she was just trying to cheer him up, and he loved her for it. "Okay."

* * *

"Okay," Nick said, "I've got something."

Sara looked up from her sandwich. "Tell me."

"I just talked to Mandy, who lifted two sets of prints from our wine bottle. One set was all smudges. But, she said they likely came from calluses, so one person who handled the bottle likely works with his hands."

"Well, that's not going to be one of our girls," Sara said. "They were all well-manicured."

"Right," Nick agreed. "The second set, however, got her a hit. We're looking for Chris Mullens. He works at the bar where the girls danced."

Sara's eyes lit up. "Let's call Brass."

* * *

Chris wasn't home when they arrived at his apartment, but the cold bottle of beer on the table told them that he hadn't been gone long. Chatting with his neighbors proved to be helpful; they learned that he liked to frequent the bar down the street.

Brass laid out a plan to watch for Chris's return. As he was in the process of radioing to ask for an unmarked car to sit outside the apartment complex, two squad cars raced past them with sirens blaring. Rather than requesting the unmarked car, Brass asked for information about the cars.

Sara and Nick listened as Brass was informed of an assault with a deadly weapon at the bar that Chris often visited. Brass immediately said that he would go to the scene.

"Assault with a deadly weapon?" Sara said as she and Nick ran after Brass.

"You feeling lucky?" Nick asked.

They arrived at the scene to find a man on the ground with paramedics and Sofia hovering over him.

"Hey," Brass said as they approached. "What'd ya got?"

"Marlon Frost," she said, standing up and handing over his wallet. "Out of state. Bar patron found him."

"Anyone see the suspect?" Brass asked.

Sofia shook her head. "No witnesses."

Brass headed inside to look for anyone who might know Chris Mullens. Sara looked back at the victim.

"Incised wound to the neck?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sofia affirmed. "Seems to be the flavor of the week."

"Did he say anything?"

"I don't think he can," Sofia replied.

Sara watched as the paramedics rolled him onto a gurney. Marlon's eyes met hers. He looked terrified.

"Hey, Sara?" Nick called. "I've got a knife over here."

Sara joined him about fifteen paces away and looked down at the purpled-handled knife with the broken tip.

"It's probably the murder weapon," Nick observed.

"Crime scene's only a couple blocks from here," Sara said.

Nick nodded.

Sara looked back at the ambulance, where the paramedics were loading Marlon. "I'm gonna go with the vic," she said slowly. "I'm gonna collect his clothes."

Nick stood up with her and reached out as if to try to stop her. "You sure that's really such a good idea?"

Sara ignored his question and ran toward the ambulance. "Hold up; I'm coming with you!"

Nick shook his head. Sofia caught the look on his face and crossed to him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm just afraid Sara's not."

Sofia frowned. "She seems fine."

"Yeah," Nick said. "I think that's what worries me the most."

* * *

Sara climbed into the ambulance and sat down with Marlon, doing her best to stay out of the way of the paramedics. She grabbed his hand, holding it in both of hers.

"My name is Sara," she said clearly. "Just hold on. You're gonna be fine."

He looked up at her, his eyes still wild.

"Do you know who did this to you?"

He remained silent. Remembering what Sofia had said, Sara decided not to bother with more questions that he wouldn't be able to answer. Rather, she held his hand silently, looking into his face and seeing Cammie, hoping that his story would have a happier ending than hers had.

When they arrived at the hospital, Sara had to wait while they stabilized and treated Marlon. She took the opportunity to call Nick.

"Sara," he said, his relief evident as soon as he answered the phone. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the hospital, waiting for the doctors to stabilize the vic," she said. "Did you and Brass find Mullens?"

"Yeah, Brass talked to him," Nick said. "He said he was dating one of the girls – Lauren, I think. He also admitted to drinking from the wine bottle. But, he did _not_ admit to killing the girls."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't think he'd just come out and say it," Sara said.

"You never know," Nick said. "I matched the broken knife from the parking lot to the tip found in Becca."

"So, we have our murder weapon," Sara said.

"Yeah. Can you get a DNA sample to prove that the blood on the knife is Frost's? We'll need to prove that the same knife killed the girls and attempted to kill him."

"Sure," Sara said. "I'll bring it back along with everything else."

"Any idea when you'll be back?"

"No, I … oh, wait, the nurses are waving to me. I think I can get in now."

"Okay. Listen, Sara, if you need anything …"

"I'll call. I promise."

"Okay. Take care."

She smiled. "You, too. Bye, Nicky."

"Bye."

Sara hung up the phone and picked up her kit. She went to Marlon's room, where she found him awake but still unable to speak. A breathing tube made all speech impossible.

"I already bagged his clothes for you."

Sara turned in surprise and immediately recognized one of the trauma nurses. She had worked with her on more than one occasion.

"Thanks so much," Sara said, taking the bag from her.

"You're welcome."

Sara put the bag away and pulled out the other supplies she would need. She gave Marlon a smile.

"Hi, Mr. Frost," she said. "I'm Sara. We met in the ambulance. I work with the crime lab. I'm just going to need to take some pictures and get a few other things from you. I'll work as quickly as I can, but everything I do is going to help us find the person who did this to you."

He watched with wide eyes as she scraped under his nails and took photos. She smiled as she snapped the last few pictures.

"Mr. Frost, I'll be out of your way soon," she said.

He nodded.

"I'm sure you want to get some sleep," she continued. She put down her camera and picked up her printing materials. "I just need to get your fingerprints. It's routine. I promise it won't hurt."

She pressed the fingers of his right hand against the ink pad, then began pressing them, one by one, against the print card. She looked at the first two prints with a frown. They were smudged.

She continued her job until all five of the fingers from his right hand were recorded on the paper. She put his hand down and studied the card. All five fingers left smudges. She picked up his hand again and turned it palm up to look at his fingers. They were all callused.

For the first time since meeting Cammie, she heard a different voice in her head. Nick's words from earlier seemed to scream at her.

"_I just talked to Mandy, who lifted two sets of prints from our wine bottle. One set was all smudges. But, she said they likely came from calluses, so one person who handled the bottle likely works with his hands."_

Marlon wasn't the killer's latest victim. He was the killer.

Sara looked at him. He met her eyes and, as they stared at each other, he realized that she knew what he was – what he had done.

He lunged forward, grabbing her arm.

"Get off me!" Sara exclaimed, fighting him off. "Get off me!"

She managed to pull free from his grip of iron. The force of her escape sent both of them backwards. As he fell back against the bed, his gown moved, revealing a birthmark on his shoulder. It was a port wine-colored splotch.

Cammie's voice was back. _"Por – w – por – wine. … Birth m – birth m …"_

Eyes wide with horror, Sara backed away. She went into the hall and took out her phone. She needed to call Brass.

* * *

Brass was there at once, bringing an army of cops and Nick along with him. Nick immediately went to Sara while Brass gave instructions to his men.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I took his fingerprints," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "They're all smudges, Nick. Every one of his fingers is callused. Just like the fingers that touched the wine bottle. And, he has a vascular birthmark … port wine … it's what Cammie was trying to tell me."

"Okay," Brass said as he joined them. "Sara, well done. You've got our guy."

"Yeah, but we can't prove it," she said. "We can't exactly match the smudges on his fingers to the smudges on the bottle."

"But, now that we know who did this to the girls, we can find a way to prove it," Nick said.

"I'm going to go make sure the hospital knows to keep him in solitary," Brass said, stepping away.

Sara looked at Nick. "He knows that I figured it out," she said. "When I looked at his hand, he watched me…he could see it in my eyes. He grabbed my arm … I think he wanted to hurt me like he …"

Nick didn't say a word. He folded her into a tight embrace, pulling her against his chest.

He wasn't Grissom. But, he still made her feel safe. She let him hold her and pressed her face against his chest, wishing that she had stayed at home, watching movies with Grissom. Wishing that this case had never happened.

* * *

They were able to prove that Marlon Frost had killed the girls. He had downed the wine straight from the bottle that bore his fingerprints. They were able to match the saliva on the bottle to his DNA.

When Brass went to the hospital to question him, he confessed. Their case was solved.

* * *

While Brass was getting a confession from Mr. Frost, Sara and Nick processed the car he had stolen. They found all six girls' purses in a garbage bag in the trunk. One of them, Becca's, contained a pack of cigarettes and a receipt from the bar both Marlon and Chris frequented.

He had seen her at the bar. And he had fallen for her. In his deranged mind, she had fallen for him, too. He followed her home. He sexually assaulted her, and killed her and her roommates.

Sara found Cammie's purse at the bottom of the bag. She went through the contents carefully, finding several pictures of a little girl. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"What is it?" Nick asked.

Sara held up the pictures for him to see. "Doc said that she had a scar from a C-section," she said, willing the tears to recede. "This must be her daughter."

"Has the baby's father been notified?" Nick asked.

"I'll find him," Sara said.

* * *

Corey was easy enough to track down using Cammie's daughter's birth certificate. Sara called him and asked him to come in. She wanted to return the pictures.

Corey was horrified by what had happened to Cammie.

"How did you find me?" he asked.

"Cammie had these in her wallet," she said. "We tracked you from the birth certificate." She finished flipping through the pictures and gave them to Corey. "She's a cutie. What's her name?"

"Fynn, after Cammie's grandmother" he said. "But, her adoptive parents call her Annabelle."

"She kept in touch with them?"

"They're pretty cool. We didn't have contact, but they would send Cammie a photo every year on Fynn's birthday. And, every year, Cammie and I would get together, have a beer and look at it. The biggest regret of my life is not marrying Cammie and raising Fynn together. I wanted to, but she said we were too young. Maybe if we had –"

"Corey," Sara interrupted, "you can't blame yourself."

"Were you with her when she died?"

Sara nodded, fighting tears every bit as much as the young man sitting across from her.

"At least she died knowing kindness."

Corey looked at the pictures in his hands again, then back up at Sara.

"I should go. Thank you for this." He stood up, tucking the pictures into his jacket pocket.

Sara nodded. "I'm so sorry, Corey."

He nodded again, then walked out of the room.

* * *

Sara sat in the break room for a long time before she was able to rouse herself enough to want to leave. She stood up and picked up her jacket.

"Hey."

She turned to see Grissom in the doorway. "Hey."

"Are you ready to go home?"

She nodded.

"Good. Me, too."

They were about to leave when the television caught Sara's eye. Breaking news had interrupted the newscast that had been playing only a moment before. She and Grissom stood and watched as they reported on Marlon's confession to the showgirls' murders. His face was plastered against the screen.

The tears that Sara had been fighting since Cammie's death finally became too much. She couldn't fight anymore. They rolled down her cheeks, leaving shiny tracks behind them.

"I held his hand," she said.

She turned to look at Grissom, who was surprised to see the tears. He had known that Sara was struggling, but she had avoided him enough to hide how much she had felt this case.

"Just like I held hers," she continued as a picture of the girls dominated the screen. "I lost perspective."

Grissom reached out to brush away her tears. She leaned into his touch, wishing for the first time that she had let him see how much she hurt from the beginning.

She turned to look at him. Silent messages passed between them, and she nodded. They turned to leave. Grissom put his arm around her waist as they walked through the empty halls, past a woman from the cleaning crew who was mopping the floor.

Sara needed to go home. She needed to be alone with Grissom. She needed to let herself lean on him. He always made her feel better.


	87. Moments

A/N: And now for the follow-up to the walk out of the lab. I hope you like it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration is taken from episodes 712, "Redrum," 724, "Living Doll," and 905, "Leave Out All the Rest." I know it sounds random, but trust me.

I also don't own anything related to _The English Patient_, _Zoolander_, SNL, or the Ford Motor Corporation.

* * *

_Moments_

By the time they pulled into their driveway, Sara had stopped crying and was wiping at the tear tracks on her cheeks. She looked at Grissom and forced a laugh.

"I'm sorry to go to pieces like this."

Grissom shook his head and took her hand, rubbing his thumb across the top of it in a comforting gesture. "Sara, it's fine. Don't apologize for feeling things deeply. It's one of the things that makes you so special."

She flushed slightly. "I don't feel special right now."

"You are," he assured her. "You are incredibly special, and I feel so lucky to be the one beside you right now."

She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "There is no one I'd rather have beside me."

It was Grissom's turn to blush. "Come on. Let's go inside. I'll make you breakfast."

Sara nodded and climbed out of the car. She followed Grissom into the house, pausing to kick off her shoes at the door.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked, already headed to the kitchen. "An omelet? Pancakes? My special French toast?"

Sara followed him down the stairs and wrapped her arms around him from behind, planting a kiss on his back. "Would you be mad if I said I'd rather skip breakfast and just go to bed?"

Grissom turned around so that he could face her and hold her in his arms. "No. If you'd rather sleep, that's fine."

"Good." She looked down for a minute, then up again, biting her lip. "Would you come to bed with me?"

Grissom gave her a slight smile. "Of course."

They took turns in the bathroom, then climbed into bed together. Sara spooned her back against Grissom's chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her.

"I've needed this for so long," she murmured sleepily. "You always make me feel better."

He pressed a kiss against her shoulder. "You make me feel better, too."

Sara sighed with contentment. "I love you," she murmured.

Within seconds, before Grissom even had time to reply, she was asleep.

Grissom stared at the back of Sara's head and listened to her deep, even breathing. Part of him was surprised she could sleep after everything that had happened. But, really, he should have expected it. She had worked herself to the point of complete exhaustion. She had fought so hard to find justice for Cammie.

And, she had succeeded. She had been the one to find the man responsible for all that had happened … even if it had been rather accidental.

Grissom felt himself tense at the memory of what had happened. The thought that she had made an emotional decision to ride to the hospital with Marlon, a decision that could have brought her more pain than healing, was secondary to the memory of what had happened to her at the hospital. The man who had killed so many people had grabbed her … had tried to hurt her …

_I could have lost her._

As the thought crossed his mind, a deep dread washed over him. The idea of living without Sara … was unthinkable. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. She sighed in her sleep and pressed her back tightly against his chest. Grissom kissed her hair.

"I love you, too, Sara," he whispered. "I love you so much."

Kissing her hair again, he closed his eyes. With his arms wrapped around Sara, holding her tightly against him, he knew he'd be able to sleep.

* * *

Sara was still sleeping when Grissom woke up later in the day. He watched her sleep for a few moments, then silently slid out of bed. He picked up both their cell phones and left the bedroom.

Hank ran to greet him as soon as he stepped into the hallway. Grissom smiled at the dog, patted his head, and grabbed his collar to direct him away from the bedroom.

"Let Sara sleep," he said softly. "She's tired."

After feeding Hank, Grissom went into the living room. He sat down on the couch and called Catherine.

"Hello," she said cheerfully when she picked up. "Aren't you supposed to be off today?"

"Yes," Grissom replied. "That's why I'm calling."

"O-kay," she said slowly. "You don't trust me to run the shift without you anymore?"

"Hardly," he said. "I was just thinking … after everything that's happened, I want Sara to have tonight off. I'm going to call and tell her to stay home."

"Oh," Catherine said. "Well, I can understand why. Having a victim die in your arms and being attacked by a murderer can be a bit daunting. Giving her a day to recover is probably a good idea."

"I thought so," Grissom replied. "But, since I'm calling Sara off, do you want me to come to work tonight?"

"No," Catherine said slowly, "the guys and I can handle it. You already had to come in on your on-call night and run a tough investigation. You deserve some time off, too."

"You're sure? It won't be a problem."

"Grissom, for goodness' sake, just take a night off!" Catherine said. "Take Hank to the park or something. Enjoy yourself for once."

Grissom chuckled. "Okay, you've made your point. I get it. You don't want me in the lab."

"Sometimes, you really have to have things spelled out for you, don't you?"

"Sometimes."

"Okay, so we're clear on that," Catherine said, chuckling. "Do you want me to call Sara and tell her she's not allowed to come to work?"

"No, I'll do it."

"Good," Catherine said. "I think she's more likely to take it coming from you."

"Grudgingly, I'm sure."

"Well, it's better than what I'd get." She paused. "Any other instructions for tonight?"

"No, I think that's all. Take care of everything for me."

"I will."

"I know you will."

She smiled. "Enjoy your day off, Gil."

"I will."

"Bye."

"Bye, Catherine."

"What did Catherine want?"

Grissom looked up to see Sara walking into the room.

"Hey," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she replied, settling down next to him on the couch.

Grissom smiled and put his arm around her, pulling her closer. She leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"Even better now," she added.

He chuckled. "Good."

"So, why did Catherine call? You don't have to go in on your day off, do you?"

"No," he replied. "Actually, I called her."

"Oh? What's going on?"

"I wanted to tell her that you now have the day off, too."

Sara leaned away from him and looked into his face. She frowned. "Why?"

"Honey, you had a rough day yesterday. I thought you'd want time to recover."

Her frown deepened. "Isn't this a time when I should get back on the horse?"

"You've been riding the horse for years," Grissom said patiently. "I know you're not going to let one tumble keep you away. I just think you need to have some time to yourself, that's all."

"Grissom, look. I lost perspective. I know that. I won't let it happen again."

It was Grissom's turn to frown. "Sara … do you think this is a _punishment_?"

She shrugged. "You're the one who's always preaching perspective and emotional detachment."

"Yeah, but, Sara … I didn't … I don't … Look, I know that you are an outstanding CSI. I also know that you had a lot of very hard shots thrown at you during this case. Anyone would have trouble recovering from that. But, you … Sara, you're not like Warrick or Catherine or even Greg. You take things more to heart. You need a little more time to bounce back."

Her face fell. "I'm sorry if I've ever disappointed you," she nearly whispered.

"No, honey, no. You've _never_ disappointed me," he said empathetically. He drew a deep breath. "Look, as your boss, I say a lot of things. But, I don't really think of myself as your boss anymore – I haven't for a long time. I'm your boyfriend first and foremost. And, as your boyfriend, your big heart is one of the things I love most about you. I just … I want to make sure it has time to heal, that's all. And, like you said, I'm off today, too, so I thought this would be a nice chance for us to cash in that rain check on our movie date."

Sara finally smiled – albeit a small smile. "We don't have to watch _The English Patient_, do we?"

Grissom laughed. "We can watch whatever you want."

"Good," Sara replied, getting off the couch to look through the movies they still had to watch. "We're going to watch _Zoolander_."

"All right," Grissom said. "You put it in and I'll get us some movie snacks."

"Hey, Gil?"

"Yeah?" he said, turning just before going down the stairs to the kitchen.

Sara smiled. "Thanks for this."

He gave her a warm smile – the one he only smiled for her. "You're welcome."

* * *

After watching Ben Stiller and Will Ferrell for a few hours, Sara seemed more like herself. Grissom had to admit that the movie was hilarious. But, even if he had hated every minute of it, it would have been worth watching to hear Sara laugh.

"You liked it?" Sara asked as the ending credits began to roll.

"I did," Grissom affirmed. "It's a very funny movie."

Sara grinned. "I love Ben Stiller."

"He is funny," Grissom agreed. "I liked Will Ferrell in this one a lot, too."

"You don't usually like him?"

"I miss him on SNL. Every time he's in a movie, it's a reminder that he's not playing George W. Bush anymore. I dislike his movies on principle."

Sara laughed. "Well, it's not like we're home on Saturday nights often enough to know he's not there."

"True. I can always pretend he never left." He stood up to take the movie out of the DVD player. "So, do you want to watch another movie?"

"Actually," Sara said, sitting up straight on the couch without Grissom to lean against, "I was hoping your offer of French toast might still stand."

"It does."

"Good. Do you think we could make some?"

He turned to her with a smile. "I think that's a great idea."

Sara smiled back.

Grissom crossed back to the couch and held his hand out to her. "Come on. Now that you know how to make it, you have to help me."

"Oh, I _have_ to, do I?"

"Yes. It's all part of the secrecy of the recipe. Once you know it, you're bound to help make it."

Sara smiled and took his hand, letting him pull her off the couch. "That, my dear, sounds like something your mother made up to get you to help her in the kitchen."

"Probably," he replied. "But, it obviously worked."

"It worked out to my advantage," Sara added as they walked into the kitchen.

"Are you saying you're only with me because you needed a live-in chef?" Grissom asked as he began pulling ingredients out of the cupboards.

"No, but it's a nice perk."

Grissom smiled. "Go wash your hands."

"Yes, sir."

They worked together on the French toast, then sat down to enjoy their breakfast together. They chatted easily about the movie, about the dog, about the house … but, not about work.

"Thank you for this," Sara said as they carried their dishes to the sink.

"Breakfast?" Grissom asked.

She shook her head as she placed her dishes in the sink. "For insisting that I take the night off. I needed it more than I realized."

Grissom put his dishes on the counter and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm just glad it helped."

"It helped," she agreed. "_You_ helped me, Gil … so much."

She leaned up to kiss him passionately. Grissom responded, kissing her back with every bit as much passion.

"Sara?" he murmured against her lips.

"Yeah?"

"What to let the dishes wait?"

"Oh, yeah."

Grissom gave her a roguish smile, and pulled his lips away from hers. He took her hand and tugged her down the hall to the bedroom.

* * *

As Sara had expected, Grissom left for work early the next day. He always liked to get in early the day after a day off. He usually needed the extra time to go through all the mail and paperwork sitting on his desk.

By the time Sara arrived, it was nearly time for their shift to start. She found Nick in the locker room, attaching his ID to his jeans.

"Hey, darlin'," he said with a smile. "How are you?"

"Fine," she replied.

He gave her a piercing look. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," she affirmed. "I think having yesterday off helped a lot."

Nick smiled. "Catherine said that Grissom called you off. We all had bets on whether you'd let him do it."

Sara grinned. "Who won?"

"Greg and I did."

"Catherine and Warrick thought I'd show up here?" she asked, laughing. "They have no faith."

"I don't think it's that," Nick said, chuckling. "They just know your workaholic tendencies."

Sara's phone beeped and she picked it up to see a text message from Grissom. "I've got to go. Grissom wants me in his office."

Nick's eyebrows shot up. "Think he's going to call you off for tonight, too?"

"I hope not," Sara said, suddenly concerned as to why Grissom wanted to see her. "I'm already here."

"Hey, Nicky, you're coming with me," Catherine said, sticking her head into the locker room. "We've got a double at a seedy motel."

"Sounds like fun," Nick replied.

Catherine smiled. "Hi, Sara. How are you?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Really. I mean it."

Catherine laughed. "Point made," she said, holding up her hands as if in surrender. "Nick, I'll meet you at the car?"

"I'll be there."

"I'd better go see what Grissom wants," Sara said.

"Probably to give you an assignment, if Catherine's already got ours," Nick said.

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'll see you later, Nick. Have fun with the double."

"Thanks."

Sara slid her phone back into her pocket and made her way through the building to Grissom's office. She knocked on the slightly open door and entered the dim room.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Good, you're here," he said, grinning broadly.

Sara frowned slightly as she crossed the room. He looked rather uncharacteristically excited. "What's going on?"

"It's hatching!"

"What?" Sara asked, completely bemused.

"Your cocoon! It's hatching!"

"Oh-o," Sara exclaimed softly.

She joined Grissom in front of the glass case that held her cocoon and bent down to look at it. She could already see the butterfly poking through the casing.

"How long ago did this start?"

"Before I got here," Grissom said. "I didn't even realize it was happening until a few minutes ago."

"I'm glad you saw it," Sara said. "I would have hated to miss it."

"Yeah."

They fell silent as they stood together watching the butterfly fight its way out of the cocoon. Once out, it began the task of forcing its wings to their proper size. Sara gasped as she realized what she was seeing.

"It's an American Copper, isn't it?" she said. "One of Lindsey's Halloween butterflies?"

"It is," Grissom affirmed, thrilled that she remembered their past conversation as well as he did.

"They're so pretty," she said, watching as it stretched its new wings.

"I saw it and I knew you had to have it," Grissom said. "I remembered how much you liked the one I have."

She took her eyes away from the butterfly to look at him. "Thank you," she whispered.

Grissom met her eyes and smile. "You're welcome."

Sara glanced back toward the nearly-closed door, then leaned in to give Grissom a quick, chaste kiss. He smiled and kissed her again. They had never done it before, but they were quickly learning that there was something about stealing kisses at work that was incredibly alluring.

"I'm glad you like it."

She giggled. "Yeah. I do." She looked at the butterfly again. "We can't keep it locked up in here forever. It's not right. It should be outside, flying over meadows full of wildflowers."

"Well, I'm not sure where it's going to find a meadow in Las Vegas, but I'm sure it could survive if we released it. Is that what you want to do?"

Sara looked at the butterfly again. "Yeah. That's what I want to do."

"Okay. Let's take it outside."

Grissom picked up the terrarium and they walked out into the parking lot. He set it on the sidewalk and opened it.

"Come on, little buddy," he said, gently nudging the butterfly toward flight. "Go find a new home."

The butterfly began to flap graceful wings and took flight. Sara gasped as it rose out of the terrarium and began a new flight pattern across the parking lot, toward the rolling hills in the distance.

"In a way, I'm sad it's gone," she said.

"But, it's free," Grissom said. "It's as it was meant to be."

"Yeah," Sara agreed.

Her phone rang, ending their moment.

"Sidle," she said as she answered it.

"Hey, Sara, it's me," Sofia said. "I'm at the scene of a traffic accident just off the Strip. Driver fatality."

"Oo," Sara said. "You need me to process?"

"If you have the time."

"No problem," she said. "I'm on my way."

After getting the details from Sofia, she closed her phone and looked at Grissom.

"Well, it looks like one of us has to get to work," she said. "Sofia needs me to process a traffic accident."

Grissom nodded. "Mind if I tag along?"

Sara grinned. "You can if you'd like. But, remember, I'm the lead CSI. That makes me your boss."

"Mm," Grissom said, giving her a sultry smile. "I love it when you tell me what to do."

Sara blushed. "Come on. Sofia's waiting, and you're going to make us late."

"I can think of a few things that would make us _very_ late."

Sara's face turned an even deeper shade of red. "You're going to get us fired," she whispered.

Grissom laughed and picked up the terrarium. "Come on. Let's take this inside, then we'll leave. I'll even let you drive, Lead CSI."

* * *

The red Mustang was totaled. The driver, who had been intoxicated, was dead.

All in all, it was a fairly easy case.

"Okay," Grissom said, giving Sara a smile, "what do you want me to do?"

"How about photo documenting?" she suggested.

"I'd love to," he replied. "May I use your camera?"

"Where's yours?"

"In the truck."

"Oh, that's just lazy."

"I know. But, may I?"

Without even giving Sara time to reply, he reached for the camera strap that was slung over her shoulder. As he slid it down to take her camera, he let his hand trail down her arm. Sara looked down at the flipped car to hide her smile.

"We have an audience, you know," she said, speaking to the ground.

"There here to see the wrecked car, not us," Grissom replied. "I'm not even sure we're a sideshow to this one."

Sara finally looked up and laughed. "Are you saying that crunched metal is more interesting than we are?"

"Do you deny it?"

Sara laughed again. "Let's get back to work."

"Yes, ma'am."

Absorbed in their task, they both forgot about the crowd that had gathered to see the twisted metal of the car. Neither realized that, for one person, _they_ were the main attraction. Neither realized that in their audience stood one small person with eyes just as sharp as theirs and a memory that was even better. Neither knew that they were under the scrutiny of a woman who had been waiting for an opportunity like the one they had just supplied. A woman who would rock their world to its core.


	88. Resolution

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you like this chapter.

Special thanks to Aussie for all her help! You're the best!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 719, "Big Shots."

* * *

_Resolution _

"So, you're doing okay?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Mary, you're worse than Grissom! I'm _fine_!"

"Hey, I talked to you a few days ago," Mary said. "I haven't heard you that shaken up in years. I was worried about you."

"Yeah, so is he," Sara muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "It's just … Gil keeps … _hovering_."

"Sara, he's worried about you," Mary said patiently. "Think of everything that happened. The girl died in your arms. The killer tried to hurt you. You broke down. None of these are things that he's used to happening in your day to day life."

"I suppose you're right," Sara admitted.

"And, let's not forget, you thought the girl was the killer when you found her under the bed," Mary added.

"Yeah," Sara said, realizing for the first time how terrified Grissom must have been when she had screamed that the suspect was under the bed. She had been shielded from fear by adrenaline and her "fight" reflex; he didn't have the same luxury. "I guess I should give him a break."

"You haven't been mean to him, have you?"

"Oh, God, no!" Sara exclaimed. "He's been so sweet. How could I be mean?"

"Well, at least there's that."

Sara giggled. "I can't believe you think I'd be mean to him."

"I'm just remembering the time you had the flu senior year," Mary said. "Remember what you said to me when I tried to take care of you?"

"I'm sure I don't remember," Sara said, her laughter betraying her.

"Well, allow me to refresh your memory," Mary teased. "I believe I can paraphrase it with, 'leave me alone.' Those weren't your exact words, though. You used far more profanity."

"I let you help me eventually."

"Only because you were too sick to go to the store for saltines and clear liquids," Mary said, laughing. "Face it, Sara: You make it very difficult to take care of you."

"I can take care of myself," Sara said stubbornly.

"Yeah, I know that. So does Grissom. But, every once in awhile, it doesn't hurt to let someone else take care of you."

Sara smiled, thinking of all the sweet things Grissom had done for her. "Yeah, I know."

"He's a great guy, Sara. "Just … let him be a great guy for you, okay?"

"I will."

"Good," Mary said, convinced that Sara had been thoroughly lectured. "So, what are you up to today?"

"It's my day off," Sara said. "I'm not up to anything."

"I'm jealous," Mary said. "Even my days off aren't really days off anymore."

"Hey, that's your own fault for having a baby," Sara teased. She grinned. "Even if she is the cutest baby ever."

"Toddler," Mary corrected. "You should come for a visit, Sara. You wouldn't believe everything she's learned to do since the last time you saw her."

"I'd love to visit you guys," Sara said. "I'll talk to Grissom. Maybe we can get some time off."

"Let me know," Mary said. "Tom's teaching summer classes this year, so we're not going anywhere." She paused. "Speaking of, he and Josie just got back from the park."

"Go play with your family," Sara said. "I'll let you know how the visit potential looks after I talk to my boss."

"Okay," Mary said. "Stay safe, okay?"

"I will, Mom," Sara teased. "Give Josie a kiss for me. And, tell Tom hello."

"I will. Bye, Sara."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone and looked at the dog who was sleeping at her feet. "When you wake up, we're going for a run," she informed him, pushing herself off the bed. "I don't want to waste my day off inside."

* * *

"Griss? I've got a problem."

Grissom looked up as Greg walked into his office and motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. "What's wrong?"

Greg drew a breath. "Wendy ran DNA on a rolled up hundred dollar bill I found in the back of the limo."

Grissom nodded. Greg had told him about finding the money among some white powder scattered around the limo. "I'm guessing it didn't come back to Drops," he said, referring to the survivor of the gunfight and crash.

"No," Greg said. "Not to Champ, either." Champ had been a friend of Drops's; he had died during the gunfire.

"Okay," Grissom said. "So, there was someone else in the limo. Drops seems to have forgotten all about that. Who was there with them?"

Greg's face twisted slightly. "Aaron James."

Grissom frowned. "He's the brother of Demetrius James, isn't he?"

"Yes," Greg said. "Wendy also found DNA belonging to an unknown female donor."

Grissom waved off that bit of information. "We'll talk about her later."

"I thought you would say that," Greg said with a ghost of a smile. "Grissom … I need to question Aaron about what happened. I might need to search his house. We're still missing a murder weapon. If Aaron was in the limo and Drops hasn't told us about it, he may be the one who has the gun that killed Champ."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Grissom said. "DNA evidence on money can be a little ambiguous. It's not as fallible as finding cocaine on money, but still …"

"I thought you'd say that, too," Greg said. "I had Archie go over the cell phone footage Brass collected at the scene. He found this."

Grissom picked up the still shot that Greg slid across his desk. He looked at it for a minute and sighed.

"Well?" Greg asked.

"It's not the clearest picture, but it does look like Aaron James running from the limo," Grissom acknowledged.

"Is it enough for a warrant?"

"You don't need a warrant yet. You just need to call Aaron in for questioning." Grissom ran his hands over his face. "We're going to have to go straight to the top on this one, Greg. Even Brass won't be able to bring him in without permission. We'll have to talk to McKeen."

"I was afraid of that. He's not going to be pleased, is he?"

"What can he do?" Grissom asked. "We followed the evidence, and this is where it led us."

"But, he could say we can't talk to Aaron."

"He could," Grissom agreed. "If that happens, we'll have Brass lean on Drops a little more. See if he'll admit that Aaron was there. We'll search for more evidence in the limo. I agree that what we have is enough to bring him in for a chat, or maybe even to get a warrant, but in a case like this, they may want us to have more."

Greg nodded. "What should I do now?"

"You've done your part," Grissom said. "I'll call the Under Sheriff and ask him to come in to meet with us. We'll present him with the evidence and see where it goes from there."

Greg nodded. "Thanks, Grissom." He rose to leave.

"You're welcome," Grissom said. "Greg … you're doing a great job."

Greg nodded and left the office.

* * *

Half an hour later, Grissom and Greg were in the layout room with McKeen. He looked between them.

"Well? Who could your suspect be that you'd need my permission to question him?"

"Aaron James," Grissom said.

McKeen's eyes widened. "Aaron James? Demetrius James's brother?"

"Yes," Grissom said.

"What case?"

"We're working the limo gunfight and accident," Grissom said.

"And you think this James kid was involved?"

Grissom turned a computer screen for McKeen to see. He zoomed in on the image of Aaron fleeing the scene.

"This image was captured on a cell phone at the scene. We believe that that is Aaron James." He tapped the screen to highlight the image.

McKeen squinted at the screen. "That fuzzy blob?"

"We also found evidence of Aaron James inside the limo," Greg added.

"Well, I hope it's better than this photo."

"It's DNA," Greg said. "Along with traces of cocaine on a rolled up one hundred dollar bill."

"Which doesn't place him in the limo," McKeen said. "That bill could have been brought in there by anyone."

Greg looked annoyed. This was going exactly as he had feared.

"We found a pattern in the blood on the seat next to the vic's," Grissom said, unwilling to give up so quickly. "It doesn't match the clothes from the limo driver or Drops, so there was at least one other passenger in that limo, and we need to question Aaron James."

McKeen looked down and back up again, his irritation evident. "This city just paid Aaron James and his mother two point five _million_ dollars because you ran his brother over. Are you trying to find a way to give them more money?"

"I'm just trying to do my job," Greg said.

"You want to talk to Aaron James? Get me more than snot on a bill and a dot on a crummy photo. This is a PR nightmare in the making!"

"We still don't have a murder weapon," Greg said. "Aaron James could be destroying evidence right now!"

"All right, first of all, stop talking," McKeen said, holding up his finger to silence Greg. "You're off the case." He looked past him to Grissom. "Everything he touched gets reprocessed."

Grissom nodded slightly.

"There's nothing wrong with my work," Greg said, turning to his supervisor.

"I know that; this is standard procedure," Grissom said, attempting to calm him.

"Oh, _procedure_," Greg began sarcastically.

"Open your mouth one more time, and you're on suspension," McKeen said. "I'm trying to avoid a harassment suit, here. This is cover our ass time. Keep me apprised." He turned to walk away, then turned back. "You know," he said with a mirthless chuckle, "this would have been so much easier if _you_ had been the black guy."

McKeen left, and Greg turned to Grissom.

"Grissom, come on! You've got to let me finish this!"

"Greg, I can't," Grissom said. "I don't have the power to override the Under Sheriff. You know that."

"I can't …" Greg trailed off, looking like he wanted to punch something.

"I'm sorry, Greg. We knew it might not go the way we wanted. And, truly, it might be for the best. Even if McKeen had let us bring him in, I doubt Aaron would have talked to you."

"Yeah, that's probably true," Greg admitted. "But, it didn't have to be me in the interrogation. It could have been you or Nick, or Brass could have done it without any of us …"

Grissom sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, but I can't let you continue on the case. Maybe Catherine and Warrick need a hand with their homicide."

"Yeah," Greg said. "Great."

"I'll call in Sara to replace you." Grissom gave Greg a piercing look. "We'll solve this Greg. And, if Aaron James is at fault, then we'll deal with that. But, you need to be hands off, okay?"

"Okay," Greg agreed, his face still mutinous.

"I mean it, Greg."

"I know."

* * *

Sara and Hank were both glad to go back into the air conditioned house after their run. Sara giggled as they both made a bee-line for the kitchen and some cold water.

"We had fun, didn't we?" she asked the dog as she took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "You're my favorite running buddy."

Hank's response was to bury his face in his water bowl. Sara giggled again and took a long drink of her own.

Her ringing cell phone interrupted their hydration ritual. She picked it up and saw Grissom's name on the display.

"Hello," she said with a smile as she picked it up.

"Hey," Grissom replied. "What are you doing?"

Sara grinned playfully. "Did you mean to ask what I'm wearing?"

"Must you always do this to me when I'm at work?"

Sara giggled. "Well, I'll answer both questions: I'm wearing my running clothes. Hank and I just got back from a run."

"Ah," Grissom said. "Well, since you're well-exercised, do you think you might be able to come into work?"

"You need me?"

"Always," Grissom replied, his smile carrying to her. He cleared his throat. "A … situation has occurred on the case I was working with Nick and Greg. We need your help."

"Okay," Sara said without asking further questions. "I need to shower and get dressed, and then I'll be in."

"I'll let Nick know, and we'll bring you up to speed as soon as you get here."

"Okay," Sara said again.

"I'll see you when I see you," Grissom said quietly.

Sara smiled. "I'll see you when I see you."

* * *

"Gil! We need to talk."

"Can it wait?" Grissom asked, barely breaking his stride as Catherine caught up with him in the hall. "I'm late for a meeting with Sara and Nick."

"Are you meeting with them about your limo case?"

"Yes. We're bringing Sara up to speed so she can take Greg's place on the investigation."

"Well, what I have to say relates," Catherine said. "I just found out that the bullet taken from one of the suspects in my homicide matches a bullet Greg found at your scene."

"That does relate," Grissom said, finally stopping. "So, our two cases have merged."

Catherine smirked. "You don't have to look so smug."

Grissom grinned. "I just know how territorial you can be, that's all. And, how much it bothers you when stuff like this happens."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Let's just go talk to Nick and Sara."

By the time they walked into the break room, Nick had already brought Sara up to speed. They were sitting side by side, heads bent over Greg's notes.

"Based on this evidence alone, it's obvious someone else was there," Sara said. "And, McKeen refuses to admit it could have been Aaron James?"

"McKeen won't even entertain the possibility," Nick said. "I can see his point, but at the same time … having your assailant brother killed by a CSI doesn't get you a bye for life."

"Exactly."

"Hey, guys," Catherine said as she and Grissom took seats across from Nick and Sara.

"Hey, Cath," Nick replied. "What brings you to our party?"

"We have a few of the same names on our guest lists," she said with a slight smile.

"Huh?"

"You know that Warrick and I have the case of the girl who looks to have been shoved out of a car and dragged to death, right?"

"Yeah, Warrick told me some of the details," Nick said. "Didn't you find a GMC seatbelt adjustor at the scene?"

"Yeah," Catherine said. "That would have been far more helpful if it had narrowed the field at all."

Sara giggled. "So, where are you now?"

"Well, Sofia and I went to question the man whose number was in our vic's purse. We searched his GMC truck and found a lot of blood. We followed the trail to his buddy, who died of a gunshot wound in the ER. Interestingly enough, the boys had tried to dig the bullet out themselves to save him from going into the hospital with a gunshot wound." She paused. "I just ran ballistics. Long story short, a .38 fragment recovered from a suspect in my homicide matched a .38 bullet that Greg found near the strip club drive-by."

"So, the guys in the GMC truck got into a shoot-out with the guys in the limo," Sara said.

"Tie score," Grissom said. "One dead on each side."

"Over what?" Catherine asked. "Why were these guys shooting each other up?"

"It's gotta be about the girl," Nick said. "Her DNA matched the unknown contribution on the hundred dollar bill, so she was in the limo."

"But, that bill doesn't put her there any more than it does Aaron," Grissom said, shaking his head slightly.

"No, but it proves that she was with Aaron at some point in the night," Nick said.

"Wait a minute," Catherine said. "Why would Simone even be with those guys?"

"'Cause of Drops," Nick said. "He knows everybody in the club scene, especially the party girls. He could have picked her up anywhere."

Sara nodded, studying case notes. "Simone blows off the broke guys to party with the rich guys; the broke guys feel dissed, so … they track down the limo and retaliate."

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "Yeah, and somewhere in between, Simone just gets … tossed."

"All right," Catherine said, looking between them, "how are we going to prove any of this? We're not going to get any answers from the suspect in the truck; he's lawyered up."

"So has Drops," Sara acknowledged. "And, the Under Sheriff isn't letting anyone talk to Aaron."

Grissom looked thoughtful. "What about the seatbelt adjustor you found?"

"No match to the truck," Catherine answered, shaking her head. "It doesn't even have seatbelt adjustors."

"What about the limo?"

"It's not a GMC, it's a Lincoln Continental," Sara said.

"Yeah, but maybe not entirely," Grissom said, smiling slightly.

"What?"

He gave her a smile. "Get your coat. We're going to take a look at that limo."

Sara looked at Nick and Catherine, who both shrugged. "Okay," Sara agreed. "Let's go."

* * *

Grissom explained, as they walked to the limo, that stretch limos were custom made with whatever parts were available. So, while the car was in essence a Lincoln, it was quite likely that its interior was not.

Sara discovered that limo had lost one of its seatbelt adjustors. She pulled the seatbelt out, revealing that it was frayed and bloody. It had been used to drag Simone, resulting in her death.

Aaron and Drops were suddenly murder suspects.

* * *

Sofia, several uniforms, Nick and Sara went to the James house, having finally received the Under Sheriff's blessing. Nick and Sara trailed a bit behind the others; Sofia was already following Aaron and the officers back out of the house by the time they walked up to the door.

"You're quick," Nick said.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to get him downtown as quickly as possible. Mom's throwing a party, so there's quite a few people inside."

"Sofia," Sara said slowly, taking in the red stains on Sofia's white blouse, "what happened?"

"Oh," Sofia said, looking down and then up again, anger jumping into her eyes. "Let's just say that Mom wasn't too pleased to see us. She used a glass of red wine to express her feelings."

Sara and Nick exchanged a look.

"She's out back," Sofia continued. "Metcalf and a few other uniforms are staying to make sure that no one bothers you while you conduct your search. Good luck, guys."

"Yeah," Nick said. "Thanks."

Sofia followed the other officers down the driveway, and Sara and Nick went into the house. Nick looked at Sara and exhaled.

"Well, we've got a lot of ground to cover. Where do you want to start?"

"I'll take the bedrooms," Sara said. "You?"

"I'll start with the first floor," he said. "Good luck."

Sara smiled. "You, too."

Other than a pair of sneakers, Sara's search of the bedrooms didn't yield anything that would be relevant to their investigation. She was on the verge of going downstairs to help Nick when she stumbled upon the laundry room. Her eyes widening slightly, she stepped inside.

Hanging over the drying racks were a pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. Both looked freshly laundered, and both looked like the clothes Aaron was wearing in the cell phone picture. She picked up the jeans first, flipping them over to look at the back. The pattern across the pocket was a visual match to the pattern Greg and Grissom had found in the limo. She smiled as she realized that she had found the clothes Aaron had been wearing during the gunfight.

She took the clothes downstairs, where Nick was searching through cupboards in the game room. He looked up as she entered the room.

"I checked the mom's room and the guest rooms," she said. "No sign of any weapons, but, I did find these in the laundry room." She held the jeans up so that Nick could see the back. "Look familiar?"

"Yeah," Nick said, stepping closer. "Trace of blood?"

"Nothing obvious. They were just washed." She brought the material up to her nose. "They smell like bleach."

Nick made a face. "Great. What about the hoodie? In that cell phone picture it looked like Aaron was wearing one."

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "It's still wet. Aaron wears his clothes baggy; he probably keeps them out of the dryer so they don't shrink."

Nick took the sweatshirt from her and began looking through the material of the hood, trying to find a trace of blood that had not been washed away. Feeling something hard under his fingers he frowned and began moving the material more quickly. He uncovered a small fragment of bone. He and Sara looked at each other in surprise; Nick picked up the bone.

"Looks like the little hood left us something," he said.

"Did Doc have all the pieces of Champ's skull?" Sara asked.

"No," Nick replied. "We sort of assumed we'd never find them all without tearing the limo apart. But, he has the pieces we have recovered in puzzle-form in the morgue. If this fits into the puzzle …"

"Aaron won't be able to deny being there," Sara finished. "Even Drops won't be able to talk him out of this one."

"Let's get this back to the lab," Nick said. "Sofia will need photos and documentation for her interrogation."

"Right. Let's bag it."

Nick gave her a smile. "Good find, Sara."

Sara smiled. "Just doing my job."

* * *

"You and Nick did well," Grissom said.

Sara smiled from her seat on the opposite side of his desk. "We got lucky."

"There is no luck in science."

Sara grinned. "Well, what would you call it, then?"

"Sara, can I see you for a minute?"

Sara looked up in surprise as Greg appeared in the doorway. She glanced back at Grissom, then turned to Greg again. "Sure."

She got up and followed him into the hallway. Greg began walking away from the office; Sara hurried to catch up.

"I did something, and now I need your help."

"This isn't about anything illegal, is it?" Sara asked, only half-joking.

"No. I watched Sofia's interview with Aaron James –"

"Whoa!" Sara exclaimed, stopping him mid-sentence. "You observed the interview? If the Under Sheriff had seen you, he would have gone ballistic!"

"Well, I'm still off the case," Greg said. "Besides, I just happened to be _listening_, and I heard Aaron say that he didn't _kick the girl out of the limo_." He ended by giving Sara a significant look.

"You want me to check the body?" she asked.

"Well, bruises get more distinguished as a body decomposes, so just see if there's anything we missed."

"I'm on it."

Sara nodded slightly as they both stopped before reaching the reception area. They could hear Judy arguing with someone, but it wasn't until they heard a second woman declare that she had found the one she was looking for that they both looked up. Mrs. James was coming at them; she looked ready to tear Greg apart.

"Taking one of my boys wasn't good enough for you, was it?" she asked as she rapidly advanced on them.

Sara moved in front of Greg, holding her hands up, palms out, in an attempt to calm Mrs. James.

"Now you've gotta take both?" she asked, stopping in front of them.

Sara dropped her hands as she realized that Mrs. James looked more desperate than angry.

"What did we ever do to you?"

"Mrs. James, I don't have anything against you or your family," Greg said.

"Then, what is it? Is it about the money? Then take it! I just want my boy back!"

"Mrs. James, you need to calm down," Sara said as the other woman's voice rose again.

"I'm not talking to you!" she screamed at Sara.

"Well, you're going to get yourself into trouble here," Sara said calmly.

"Ma'am," Officer Daniels said as he approached them, "you're gonna have to leave."

Mrs. James looked up at the tall, African-American officer, than back at Greg. Although her words were for Daniels, she spoke to Greg. "Protecting the nice, white boy from the _mean_, black lady."

Daniels grabbed Mrs. James to bodily remove her from the building.

"You gotta help me," she said as he led her way. "You owe me!" she screamed at Greg. "You owe me!"

Sara exhaled. "That woman needs counseling."

"I've gotta talk to her," Greg said.

"No," Sara said. "No, Greg, you can't."

"Look, Sofia's already told me that apologizing makes me look guilty. I don't want to apologize – not anymore. I just need to make her understand that this isn't my fault!"

Sara shook her head. "Good luck with that."

"I've got to try."

Before Sara had time to protest, Greg took off after Officer Daniels and Mrs. James. They had only made it as far as the hallway that led to the parking lot when he reached them.

"What do I owe you?" he asked.

She gave a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, like you don't know."

"I'll tell you what I know," Greg said. "I know that Demetrius was a killer."

She stopped walking. Behind her, Daniels and Greg stopped, too.

"And, Aaron – Aaron made the decision to hang out with Drops. He made the decision to do drugs, and to bring that girl into the limo. That's _not on me_. It's on _him_. And _you_."

Mrs. James turned to face him again. All the fight seemed to have left her. "Aaron is all I have left," she said quietly.

Greg held her eyes until she turned to walk away. Even after she was gone, he stood rooted to his spot, staring after her.

"Hey."

He turned slightly as Sara joined him. She put her hand on his arm. "Hey," he said softly.

"Did it go as you had hoped?"

"Yeah … no … I don't know." He shook his head. "I don't know what I want anymore."

Gently freeing himself from her hand, Greg went back into the lab. Sara watched him go, feeling the concern bubbling up inside her.

If he wasn't willing to talk to her, she wouldn't push. She'd do as he asked and finish the case. Maybe, then, he'd be ready to tell her what had happened.

* * *

Sara's examination of the body revealed a very highly-detailed shoe print on Simone's back. It matched the shoes Champ had been wearing the night of the gunfight.

Piecing together what both Aaron and Drops told them, Sofia and Brass were able to construct an accurate picture of the evening. Drops, Champ and Aaron began their night at a local bar, where they picked up Simone, enraging two local boys who had been hitting on her. When Simone refused to have sex with Aaron, even though Aaron hadn't asked for it, Champ, fearing that she was angering a potential investor in his new club, literally kicked her out of the limo. They had not realized she had been dragging behind them; the loud stereo system had covered her screams.

The local boys, angry that they had lost their girl, followed the limo and began a gun volley that had killed one man in each car. The truck had made it out of the fight relatively unscathed, but the limo had crashed.

"Well," Sara said as she and Greg sat in their usual booth at Frank's, "you may have been off the case, but I'd say you did quite a bit to solve it. We never would have thought to look at Simone's body again if you hadn't overheard Aaron talking about her being kicked out of the limo."

Greg smiled. "All in a day's work, right?"

"Maybe," Sara said, licking the whipped cream from her pancakes off her fork. "It wasn't really supposed to be your day's work, as I recall."

Greg gave her an embarrassed smile. "I couldn't let it go, Sar. I really couldn't."

"We've all been there," Sara said. "Not that it makes Grissom happy, but I know we've all had cases that pull us in more than others."

"Yeah," Greg said. He looked down as he began to play with his coffee cup.

"Griss told me that you asked the DA to go easy on Aaron."

"Yeah," Greg acknowledged, looking up at her again. "I don't think he was pleased with me for it."

"Why?"

"He asked if I would have done the same if his brother had lived."

"Would you?"

Greg looked away. "I don't know, Sara. I told Grissom that I'd like to think I would have, but, honestly … I feel like I'm cosmically even again, you know?"

"Greg –"

"I know that none of it is my fault," he said, cutting her off. "I told Mrs. James that. I didn't make Demetrius join that mob that night. I didn't make him try to kill Stanley Tanner. I didn't make him run at me with that rock. I didn't make him stay when the others left. I didn't make Aaron do any of the things he's done. But … somehow … knowing that Aaron is home with his mother instead of in jail makes me feel … better. It's like I can finally put all of his behind me. Like I'm finally free."

Sara reached across to grab his hand. "Then you did the right thing."

Greg smiled.

"And, Greg, for what it's worth … I'm proud of you."

He looked down, his smile widening. "It's worth a lot."


	89. Pieces

A/N: Sorry for the posting delay! Our grading period wrapped up last week, so it was the usual madness for a little while there. But, I'm on break this week, so I'm hoping to update more frequently for the next eight days or so.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Aussieforgood, who insisted that I write it.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 720, "Lab Rats."

* * *

_Pieces_

"Guess where we're going?"

Sara looked up from her locker to see Greg standing in the locker room doorway, grinning in a way that made her very apprehensive. "Where?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Lake Mead."

Sara gave him a teasing smile. "You have a romantic getaway planned for us?"

Greg grinned. "I think your boyfriend might have some issues with that."

"Maybe," Sara conceded, grinning with him. "So, why are we going to Lake Mead?"

"Boaters found a body in the lake," he said. He gave her a significant look.

Sara made a face. "Floater."

"And, as you may recall, it's _your_ turn."

"Oh, no," Sara said. "Didn't I do the last decomp?"

"Nope, I did," Greg replied.

"Damn it."

Greg grinned again. "I'll meet you in the car."

"I'll be there in a minute."

Sara was still delaying the inevitable when Grissom found her in the locker room.

"Hey," he said. "Have you seen Greg? I gave him your assignment."

"Yeah," she replied. "Floater in Lake Mead."

"Right."

Sara sighed.

"What's wrong?" Grissom asked. "I've never known you not to be excited about a case."

"It's just … Greg and I have this deal. We always trade off processing the decomps when we work those cases together. This time, it's my turn."

"Ah," Grissom said. "And, you don't want to deal with it."

"Not particularly."

"Well, I'll tell you what," he said, stepping fully into the room and closer to her. "I have to leave with Warrick for a triple right now, but, I'm sure that your body won't be posted until tomorrow. I'll take the autopsy for you."

Sara's eyes widened. "Really?"

He smiled. "Really."

"You are incredible," Sara said, wanting desperately to kiss him. "You know that, right?"

Grissom smiled. "You'd better go before I change my mind."

Sara grinned. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Sara left to meet Greg at the car, thinking that she'd have to remember to stop for lemons on her way home. Between the next two days, she and Grissom would be sure to need a lot of them.

* * *

"Hi, guys," Sofia said as Sara and Greg approached her with kits in hand.

"Hi," they replied in unison.

"Well, here's our floater," she said, waving her hand to the edge of the lake.

Sara and Greg both turned to look, their eyes widening at the sight of the decomposing body. It was bobbing in shallow water, moving slightly with the current of the lake, but held in place by the plant life that grew there. Greg grinned.

"I'm so glad it's not my turn," he said with a chuckle.

Sara made a face at him. "What's his story, Sofia?"

"Those two over there," she said, indicating two men who were standing to the side with horrified looks on their faces, "were out fishing this evening when they caught sight of the body. They called 911. Victim appears to be male, but that's about all we can tell so far. Coroner is still en route, so no one had touched him to look for ID."

Sara looked at the body. Despite the dim light, she could see how discolored his skin was; even his race wasn't immediately apparent.

"Fairly straight-forward," Greg said.

"But, it doesn't give us much," Sofia replied. "I'm going to go talk to the neighbors. We'll see if anyone knows anything about how a body could have ended up here."

"Great," Greg said, rubbing his hands together. "I'll start on the perimeter."

Glaring at him, Sara picked up her camera and made her way closer to the body. She wasn't even as close as she would need to be before she began coughing. She had not processed a body that smelled like this one in quite some time.

"You okay?" Greg asked.

"I'm fine," Sara replied. She clenched her jaw, reminded herself that she had dealt with worse, and moved in closer.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Sara and Greg were both rather disgruntled after their experience with their floater. Even though Sara had been the one to deal more directly with the body, Greg had worked in close enough proximity to be thoroughly disgusted by it, too. After loading their evidence into their SUV, they got in, turned on the radio, and drove back to the lab in silence.

By the time they had logged all their evidence, it was an hour past the end of their shift. Greg yawned as they walked back to the locker room.

"Well, Sara, I wish I could say it's been fun …"

Sara laughed. "Yeah. I'm with you."

"Maybe we'll have better luck tomorrow night."

"Maybe we won't have to deal with someone who's been dead in a lake for far too long."

"Hey, guys."

They both looked up as Nick joined them.

"Hey, Nicky," Sara said.

He wrinkled up his nose. "What did you two do to Grissom that he'd make you go on a decomp?"

"I didn't do anything," Greg said. "I blame Sara."

"Do we smell that bad?" Sara asked, ignoring Greg's comment.

"Well … I was going to suggest we go out for breakfast, but I think you two might have dates with your showers and some lemons."

"Well, that answers that question," Greg said. "Who's in for breakfast? Maybe I can meet you."

"Catherine's coming," Nick replied. "I haven't seen Grissom and Warrick yet. They might still be out at their scene."

"They had a triple," Sara said. "They may end up _working_ a triple if they're not careful."

"Well, I guess that counts them out for breakfast," Greg said. "Where are you going? Frank's?"

"Yeah, probably."

Greg nodded. "I have one lemon left in my locker from my last decomp. I'll take a shower and meet you there."

"Excellent," Nick said. "Sara?"

"I have to buy some lemons," she said. "By the time I do that and shower, you'll be done with breakfast. I'll come next time."

"All right," Nick agreed. "Greg, I'll see you at Frank's. Sara, I'll see you tonight."

Nick left and Greg looked at Sara.

"Do we really smell _that_ bad?"

Sara laughed. "Yeah," she said. "We do."

* * *

After stopping at the grocery store for lemons, Sara went home and took a long, hot, lemony shower. Grissom still wasn't back even after she had dried her hair and gotten dressed.

"Looks like it's just you and me," Sara informed Hank. "Want to go for a walk?"

Hank bounded for the door. Laughing, Sara followed behind him, stopping to clip his leash to his collar before opening the door and letting him dart into the bright sunshine.

Sara and Hank took a long, leisurely walk around the neighborhood, but still managed to beat Grissom home.

"It looks like I may have been right about that triple," Sara said. She yawned, finally acknowledging the fact that she was tired. "Come on, buddy. Let's get some sleep."

Hank looked at Sara for a moment, then went to the kitchen for a drink from his water bowl. Sara smiled at him, then made her way to the bedroom, where she changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed.

She had just gotten comfortable when she felt the foot of the bed dip. Giggling, she looked at Hank, who was arranging himself on the bed.

"Daddy's going to have a fit," she mumbled sleepily. "Good night, Hank."

Her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She awoke several hours later to the feel of Grissom's lips against her cheek. Smiling, she struggled to open her eyes.

"Is it time to get up?" she mumbled.

"No," he replied. "It's only a little after noon."

"Then why are you waking me up?" she asked, finally coherent enough to realize that Grissom wasn't in bed with her, but standing beside her.

"I figured it was only fair to wake you up, since you let the dog sleep on my side of the bed."

Sara turned to see Hank stretched out next to her. She giggled. "He was tired."

"Sara. I'm tired, too. Does that mean I'm going to take his bed?"

Sara laughed harder. "Oh, calm down. When I fell asleep, he was at the foot of the bed."

Grissom sighed. Sara never minded Hank sleeping at the foot of the bed, but he did. He was only a few inches taller than she was, but it made quite a difference when it came to Hank compromising their sleeping space when he shared their bed. Sara's toes barely grazed the dog's back. Grissom found himself curling up into the fetal position to keep from kicking their extra bed companion.

"Come on, Hank," he said, reaching over Sara to give the dog a shove. "We don't need three sleepers in this bed."

Hank woke up and gave him an annoyed look before reluctantly getting off the bed.

"I hope he'll be able to get back to sleep," Sara said, watching the dog's sad march out of the bedroom.

"We bought him a very nice bed," Grissom said, stripping off his clothes. "I'm sure he'll be fine. And, to be honest, I'm more concerned about _me_ getting to sleep right now."

"Poor baby," Sara giggled as Grissom sank into bed next to her. "Did you have a rough shift?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he said, reaching for her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. "You?"

"Disgusting," she replied. She yawned. "How did you get out so early? We figured you guys would have to work about three days straight."

"We hadn't even finished collecting all our evidence before our killer confessed," Grissom said.

"I thought you said it wasn't out of the ordinary."

Grissom chuckled. "Good point. I guess it was a bit on the strange side. But, I'm not complaining." He rolled onto his side, rolling Sara along with him so he could spoon her from behind. He kissed the back of her neck. "If it gets me extra time with you, it's a good thing."

Sara smiled, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "Agreed."

He kissed her again. "Good night, Sara."

"Good night."

* * *

Sara walked through the halls of the lab in search of Grissom. He had left for work before her; she had yet to see him, and their shift was starting. She knew that she had plenty of work to do on her Lake Mead floater, but Catherine had said something about new cases coming in, so Sara had a feeling that she'd be out in the field.

She turned a corner and saw Grissom and Catherine at the opposite end of the hall. She walked quickly to catch up to them.

"Trust me, you don't want Greg's 419," Grissom said to Catherine.

Sara bit her lips to hide her smile. Poor Greg. She could well-remember being the "new guy" and getting all the cases no one else wanted.

"Hey," she said as she joined them.

"Hey," Catherine said, turning down the hall Sara had just left.

"Hey," Grissom said, handing her an assignment slip as she joined him on his walk down the hall. "CDC needs someone out at the OmniTech Offices out on Boulder Highway. I'm sure it's not hazardous or they wouldn't let us collect anything."

"Okay," Sara said a bit apprehensively as she took the slip. She knew that Grissom would never send her into a dangerous situation, but couldn't help feeling a bit nervous to know that the CDC was involved. "You coming with?" she asked.

"No, I'm spending the night in autopsy with the Lake Mead floater."

"Enjoy; that guy was putrid," Sara said without thinking. Realizing that he could easily swap their assignments, she quickly changed the topic. "Oh, by the way, you left the miniatures unlocked."

"Yeah, I've been looking at those a lot lately," Grissom said.

"Any special reason?"

"It's just been awhile since we found one," he replied. "I feel like we're due for another."

"That's only slightly morbid," Sara said with a smile.

Grissom shrugged. "I'd like to prevent it, if we can." He shook his head. "I'm sure we're missing something … we just need to find it."

"There's always a clue, right?"

He smiled. "Right."

"Okay," Sara said as they approached the doors to the parking structure. "Well, I'm off to join forces with the CDC."

Grissom smiled. "Be careful."

"You said it wasn't hazardous," she teased.

"Still …"

"I know." She smiled. "I'll see you when I see you."

"I'll see you when I see you," Grissom echoed.

* * *

When Sara arrived at the OmniTech Offices, she was unsurprised to see the CDC personnel gathered in the lobby. They weren't even wearing masks, so she assumed that Grissom's assertions that whatever infectious agent they were investigating wasn't hazardous were correct.

"Hi," she said, holding up her ID as she joined them. "I'm Sara Sidle; I'm with the Crime Lab."

A tall, blond woman gave her a wide smile and reached out to shake her hand. "Oh, great. I'm Leslie Johnson; I'm the one who called you in."

"My supervisor didn't give me much information," Sara said. "How can I help?"

"The entire office has been hit with a herpes simplex 1 outbreak," Dr. Johnson explained. "We're trying to find where the virus originated, but we seem to have hit a wall. We're hoping that you and your lab will be able to help us."

"Great," Sara said. "Is the office staff still here?"

"Over there," she said, indicating the far side of the lobby. "I don't want to say they've been quarantined, but we're questioning everyone now, trying to see what common denominator exists."

"Right," Sara said, noting that the majority of the people being questioned seem to have cold sores. "So, the offices are open?"

"Yes. They use the second, third and fourth floors of the building."

"Okay. That's where I'll be if you need me."

"Excellent. Thanks, Ms. Sidle."

Sara nodded and, picking up her kit again, went up the stairs.

* * *

"Welcome," Al said as Grissom walked into the morgue, already dressed for the autopsy.

"Always a pleasure to be here," Grissom replied. He made a face at the sight and smell of the body. "Sara wasn't too tickled at the way this one smells."

Al raised his eyebrows. "It takes a lot to get to her."

"Don't let her fool you," Grissom said with a smile. "She's not as tough as she acts."

"Hm," Al said, hiding his smile. He began to go over the body. "No apparent puncture wounds, abrasions or lacerations," he said slowly. "COD appears to be drowning."

"We did pull him out of Lake Mead, you know," Grissom deadpanned.

"Right," Al said, refusing to give in to Grissom's teasing. "Based on decomp, I'd put TOD at about 48 hours ago."

Grissom nodded. He was about to comment further, but was distracted by the morgue doors opening. A tech came in walking backwards, pulling a gurney that held a headless body. David appeared a moment later, pushing the other side of the gurney.

"Where's his head, David?" Grissom asked.

"I haven't found it yet," David replied, clearly more than a little irritated.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Day shift," he said.

"Ha," Al laughed, barely glancing up from the body.

Grissom watched in silence for a moment as Al continued making the Y incision. A gurgling in the stomach region of the body made Al pause.

"Uh-oh," he said, lifting the scalpel from the body.

"He's got gas," Grissom said.

"Yeah, he's going to be a stinker," Al said. "You want a mask?"

"No, I'm okay."

Nodding slightly, Al went back to work. He stopped again as the body continued to bubble and protrude as though something were moving under its skin. He pulled the scalpel from the body and stared at it.

"What the hell?" he asked.

Both men leaned over the body, staring at it in amazement. They had never seen anything quite like this before.

Their closer inspection suddenly seemed like a bad idea when _something_ erupted from the body, flew into the air, and landed on the table behind them. They both whipped around to see a –

"RAT!" Al bellowed.

Grissom looked behind him, and grabbed a pan. Holding it high, he crept closer to the rat, trying not to scare it. He brought the pan down on the table with an incredible amount of force, missing the rat entirely, but managing to smash a glass jar. The rat jumped off the table and scurried around the lab. Al hit the ground in its general direction with his crutch.

"Get him!" he yelled.

Grissom ran around the table, trying to find the little intruder.

"There!" Al yelled.

Grissom ran into several pieces of equipment as he attempted to chase the rat. He stopped as the rat squeezed through the barely-open door and shot out of the room.

"Oh," Al exclaimed.

Grissom turned to look at him in shock.

"Nice work," Al said sarcastically.

"Well, at least I tried to get him!" Grissom shot back. "Where were you?"

"I hate rats," Al said with the air of one divulging a closely-guarded secret.

Grissom looked at him in surprise. He was about to question him about his phobia when the sound of crashing glass and David's shout of surprise split the air. Grissom and Al exchanged a look, then went in the direction of David's office.

"What the hell was that?" David exclaimed as they approached.

"A rat," Al said, his words clipped with disgust.

"How did a rat get in here?"

"It came in with our floater," Grissom replied. "It jumped out of the body. Did you see which way the rat went?"

"No-o. It ran through here so fast I wasn't even sure what it was."

"That's it," Al said. "We're going to quarantine the entire morgue. No one leaves or enters until we've caught the rat."

"You're serious?" David asked in surprise.

"Oh, I'm very serious."

Grissom and David exchanged a look, then both shrugged in resigned acceptance.

"I'll go find some cages," Grissom said. "We'll have to bait him so we can catch him."

"Good," Al replied. "Come on, David. Let's get suited up for battle with the little demon."

David gave Grissom a pleading look. "Need help finding those cages?"

"No," Grissom said, unable to hide his smile. "I'm sure Albert needs you more than I do."

Grissom hurried out of the room; David's death-glare followed him to the door.

* * *

Sara reached the second floor and looked around. It looked like a normal office building. Nothing appeared to be out of place, or to be there with intent to hurt. She sincerely doubted that the herpes outbreak was the result of some sort of biological warfare – it wasn't exactly something that could kill anyone. All the same, they did need to find the source of the virus so they could put a stop to it.

She exhaled slowly, thinking that the bathroom could be a good place to start. Plenty of germs existed there; perhaps their virus was originating there, too.

She pulled on her latex gloves, and got to work.

* * *

Grissom managed to find three cages fairly easily, and headed back into the heart of the morgue. Doc Robbins – or, perhaps more likely, his assistants – had hung plastic quarantine sheeting over all the doorways, giving the morgue an eerie appearance. Grissom shook his head slightly, then looked up to see two figures in Haz-Mat suits approaching him. It took a minute before he realized he was looking at David and Al.

"It's just a rat, fellows," he said as they turned down a hall together. "Why are you wearing the Haz-Mat gear?"

David pointed at Doc Robbins. "He made me do it."

"It's a wild animal covered with potential biohazardous material – with _claws_! Rabies! Scabies! AIDS! Hepatitis! I'm thinking of this suit as a giant rubber glove."

David shook his head and continued down the hall, putting up cautionary signs. Grissom followed Al into the morgue. He put down his cages, and picked up part of the victim's internal organs. Al looked at him in shock.

"The vic's intestines?" he asked, watching as Grissom began cutting them apart. "What are you doing?"

"Rats are neophobic; they fear the new," Grissom explained. "We stand a better chance of catching him by giving him what he's used to."

Al watched as Grissom placed a piece of intestine in the first cage. He picked up the scalpel to cut another piece, but paused at the sound of the rat running through the ceiling above their heads. Both men looked up as though they hoped to catch sight of their nemesis.

"Pestilence, alive and well," Doc Robbins said.

The lights dimmed and came back up several times before finally going out completely. The generator kicked in, providing them with yellow light.

"I think he's on to us, Doc," Grissom said in a mock-serious tone.

Al narrowed his eyes. "I wish you would take this seriously."

"Albert, I am cutting up a victim's intestines, putting the small pieces of those intestines into metal cages, and, should I be so lucky, strategically placing said cages throughout the morgue, all in the hopes of catching our new friend. I'm not sure how much more seriously I can possibly take this."

"Fair enough."

"Well," David said as he joined them. "I'd say it's safe to say that our furry friend found his way into the wiring."

"Indeed," Grissom said. "Okay, let's start by checking all the circuit breaker boxes. If he's not there, we may need to call in an electrician to help us." He looked at Al. "Unless, of course, that would be a problem with your quarantine?"

"Let's just start looking," Al replied, rolling his eyes.

"I'll head downstairs," David volunteered. "You guys staying up here?"

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "Come on, Al."

"Lead on, Master of Extermination."

* * *

Sara pushed her hair back and sighed. She had been searching for infectious agents for what felt like years, and was coming up empty. In a final push to find something worth taking back to the lab, she began to print every surface in the offices.

She made her way into a junior executive's office, and began dusting his desk with print powder. Her eyes widened as something larger than the average finger print began to emerge. The idea that she might be on to something sent a jolt of renewed energy through her. She continued dusting the desk with print powder. She gasped as she realized what she was seeing, then began to giggle.

"A butt print," she whispered. "Oh, my …"

She lifted the print, even though she knew it was essentially useless. Lifting it had very little to do with identifying the likely source of the outbreak and quite a bit to do with having evidence to back up her story. She knew that the guys would never believe she had found something like this without solid proof.

"Well," she muttered. "If someone's ass has been here, chances are …"

She stood up to flip off the lights and pick up her ALS. She shone the light over the desk, gasping again as the keyboard lit up in pale blue. Someone had clearly been having quite a bit of fun in this office, and likely spreading the by-product of that fun through the rest of the building.

"Oh, no one is going to believe this!" she exclaimed, switching off the ALS.

She was still giggling as she bagged the keyboard. This, as her mother would say, was a case to put into the book that she could write about her work.

* * *

The first breaker box Grissom and Robbins came in contact with was smoking. Grissom wrinkled his nose at the acrid smell coming from it.

"Can you smell that?" he asked.

"Yes," Al replied.

Grissom raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. "You shouldn't be able to smell that through your suit."

Al nodded. "Good to know."

Grissom opened the box, and even more smoke rushed out. He closed the door again and began unscrewing the panel.

"Did you know that rodents have skeletons with flexible joints?"

"No," Al replied.

"If they can get their head through something, the rest of their body can contort to fit. They can crawl into spaces as small as a quarter." Grissom finished his lesson and lifted the panel off.

"Lousy varmints," Al said.

Without the panel, they could see the rat lying at the bottom of the box, dead and singed. A wire was clenched in his jaw.

"Ha!" Al chuckled. "Bastard hit the main line."

Grissom knelt down for a closer look, noticing that something was behind the wire between his teeth. "That's not the only thing he's got in his mouth."

"Huh," Al said.

Grissom looked up at him. "Feel up to a little necropsy?"

"You want me to perform a necropsy on this rat?" Al asked in disbelief.

"Well, he did come in with our floater. He could have something to say about his death."

Al shook his head. "If it'll make you happy."

"Thank you."

Grissom pulled the wire from the rat's mouth and picked him up. Al raised his eyebrows.

"Should we reunite him with his friend?"

"It's only fitting."

Al smiled and led the way to the autopsy room. While Grissom arranged the rat on the table, Al took off the hood of his suit, then picked up the phone to call David to let him know that he could stop searching for the rat.

"So, who first?" Al asked after he hung up the phone.

"Let's start with the rat."

"Better to get it over with," Al agreed.

Grissom grabbed a flashlight, holding it to provide more light for Al while he worked. He exposed the rat's organs, then cut into his stomach. Grissom's eyes widened as Al pulled out a half-eaten blue pill.

"What is it?"

"My guess would be black tar heroine," Al replied.

"Looks like the rat ate the mule," Grissom said.

They both turned to look at their floater.

"Well, I guess you were right," Al said. "The rat was helpful in the end."

"Has your opinion of them changed at all?"

Al gave him a look and shook his head. Grissom laughed.

"I'm going to talk to Sofia. See if she has any idea of our floater's employment."

"Enjoy."

Grissom smiled and, picking up his casefile, left the doctor alone.

* * *

Once given enough background, Sofia was able to place their floater as a drug runner who had dropped out of sight a few weeks before. Feeling rather accomplished, and thinking that Sara and Greg owed him for closing their case for them, Grissom returned to the lab to take the drugs they had found in the rat to Henry.

* * *

"Hey," Sara said, still mentally giggling as she made her way to DNA.

"Hey," Wendy said.

Sara was a bit surprised at the lack of enthusiasm in her colleague's greeting, but figured that her story of the case would cheer her up.

"Here you go," Sara said, handing over the keyboard she had taken from OmniTech. "I checked under the keys; crusty, white stains, pale blue under ALS."

"Semen, huh?" Wendy said, taking the keyboard. She looked up with a confused smile. "What made you check under the keys?"

"A butt print on the credenza," Sara said, holding up her hands as if to frame the print.

Wendy nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay, that's gross."

"CDC contacted us because the whole office has a herpes simplex 1 outbreak, and nobody could figure out why," Sara explained, while Wendy listened attentively, loving the gossipy story. "I guess you never really know what's going on in your office," Sara said, winding up her story. She turned to leave.

"Hey, Sara?"

She turned back.

"Is it true that the miniature cases have been keeping Grissom up at night?"

A dread unlike any she had ever felt filled Sara. "How would I know?" she asked quickly – _too_ quickly.

Fortunately, Wendy missed the extreme amount of guilt in Sara's answer. "I just thought that maybe you guys all talk about it," she said. "And … Hodges told me that Grissom confided in him, and …" Wendy trailed off, realizing how ridiculous she sounded. "You know what? Never mind. Just forget I even asked."

"Well, listen, I don't know what Hodges has been telling you," Sara said. "But … do you really think Grissom would confide in him … about anything?"

"No," Wendy said at once. "Of course not."

Sara smiled slightly, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to end. "I – um – I've got to go log some other evidence, so …"

"Yeah," Wendy said, looking as eager as Sara to move on. "I'll call you when I have your results."

"Thanks."

* * *

Grissom walked into his office and stopped short. Hodges was sitting at his desk, wearing his goggles, studying his miniature. He crossed the room rapidly; Hodges was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't even look up until Grissom was literally leaning over him.

"This better be good, _Dave_."

Hodges looked up, his face completely shocked. "Bleach," he said.

"What?" Grissom nearly spat.

Hodges took off the goggles so he could see Grissom's face clearly. "I found a common element in all four miniatures," he said. "Bleach. There's a bottle of it in the trash at Izzy's. There's a barrel of it at the chicken plant. There's bleach in the flower water at Barbara's condo, and _now_," he paused to hand Grissom a magnifying glass and the tweezers he was holding with something clenched between them, "a bleach coupon at Penny's."

Grissom studied the tiny coupon. It was indeed for bleach.

"This may sound crazy, but if the killer is a housekeeper or a janitor, they would certainly know the ins and outs of each location. Uh … what goes in what drawer, what book goes on what bookshelf, hours of operation, habits, schedules. I've thought a lot about the killer's pathology. There doesn't seem to be any regular interval between murders, which makes me think that they're being triggered by something. Maybe … maybe the killer is triggered by bleach!"

Grissom stared at him for a moment, silently processing everything Hodges had said at a rapid-fire pace. "The bellows," he said at last.

"I'm sorry?" Hodges asked.

"James Tilley Matthews," Grissom said. "Early nineteenth century London. Matthews was in Bedlam Hospital awaiting trial. Doctors were trying to determine sanity. Several interviewed him. Half thought he was sane; half insane. Turns out he was perfectly normal … except when someone mentioned _politics_. At that point, he'd go into a rage about the little men who lived underground and used a bellows to push thoughts into his mind, as well as the minds of parliament and the queen. A specific object or word that triggers the urge to kill … it's a form of delusional psychosis. Rare, but it does exist."

"If the killer is one of Ernie Dell's foster kids, maybe bleach played a role in some form of childhood abuse," Hodges offered. "He's getting back at the world for what they did to him."

"Well, if having bleach in your home is the common element among victims …" Grissom shook his head, "then, anyone can be next."

* * *

When Grissom got home, Sara was in the kitchen, making breakfast and singing along with the song at the radio. He watched her silently for a moment, smiling at her moment of carefree happiness.

Sara spun around, searching for a missing ingredient for her pancakes, and saw Grissom standing next to the counter. Her face lit up with a smile.

"Hey!" she said. "You're home just in time. I'm making pancakes."

"So I see," Grissom smiled. He leaned in to kiss her cheek. "It looks great."

Sara frowned slightly. "You seem upset."

"No … just glad to be home." He opened the cupboard and took out plates to set the table. "How was your day? No serious hazards, right?"

Sara giggled. "Just a little herpes," she replied.

Grissom's eyebrows shot up. "Um … something you need to tell me?"

Sara began to laugh. "No, dear, nothing like that. The CDC needed us to investigate a herpes simplex 1 outbreak at the OmniTech offices."

"Ah," Grissom said. "And?"

"And, Wendy is currently processing a keyboard I took from a junior exec's office."

"A keyboard?" Grissom asked blankly.

Sara grinned. "It would appear that our junior exec was having sex on his desk … and, spreading the love around the office."

Grissom's mouth dropped open. "How did you…?"

"I found a butt print on the desk."

"Wow," Grissom said, recovering from the shock. He grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Why haven't we ever had sex at work?"

Sara laughed. "Because we like working."

"No, seriously … I wonder how long those two had been having that relationship before the herpes spread around the office. Neither of us is carrying an STD; we could probably get away with it longer."

"Griss …"

"Come on, Sara," he said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Let's put your butt print on my desk."

Sara laughed and shoved him away. "My butt does not need to be on your desk."

He grabbed her bottom, grinning at the look of surprise on her face. "It might look nice there …"

Sara rolled her eyes. She finished her kitchen tasks and carried the food to the table. "How about you? How did the floater go?"

"He was carrying far more than herpes."

Sara raised her eyebrows, silently urging him to continue as they sat down.

"The floater turned out to be a drug runner. While in the lake, he became home to more than drugs – a rat found its way into the body. It jumped out at Al and me during the autopsy."

"Oh!" Sara exclaimed.

"Did you know that Al is terrified of rats?"

"No," Sara said, giggling. "That's really funny, though. Did you catch it?"

"Sort of. It electrocuted itself on the wiring it the morgue. Poor Al and David put on their Haz-Mat suits for nothing."

"You can't be serious."

Grissom shrugged. "I told you, he's afraid of rats."

Sara laughed again.

Grissom looked pensive. "I also had an interesting conversation with Hodges."

Sara's eyebrows shot up as the memory of her conversation with Wendy surfaced. "You didn't … by chance … tell him that the miniatures are keeping you up at night?"

Grissom frowned. "No. Why would I say something like that?"

"Just something Wendy said. Anyway … what happened with Hodges?"

"I found him in my office, studying the Penny Garden miniature."

"I told you they were unlocked!"

"I know. I just didn't think anyone would think to take them out. Anyway … Sara, I think he may have found something we can use."

"What?"

"He found a common element in all four miniatures: bleach."

"Bleach?"

"Yes." Grissom looked pensive, his fork with a piece of pancake on it suspended in midair. "I think that our killer may have a form of delusional psychosis. I think that the drive to kill may be triggered by bleach."

"Bleach," Sara said again, this time slowly. "Griss … you can find bleach _anywhere_."

"I know," he sighed. "It's not much to go on, but … right now, it's all we've got."

Sara shook her head slowly. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to take this lead and run with it." He shook his head as if to clear it. "But, for now, you and I are going to have breakfast. Then, we are going to take Hank for a walk. Then, we're going to come home and curl up in bed together and get some sleep."

Sara grinned. "I can think of something we can do before we go to sleep."

Grissom raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling again. "Does it involve leaving your butt print somewhere?"

Sara laughed. "Maybe."

He grinned. "In that case, count me in."


	90. Reassurance

A/N: This may just be my all-time favorite episode of CSI. I hope I did it justice.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 721, "Ending Happy." Milton and Sara quote Longfellow's "The Arrow and the Song."

* * *

_Reassurance_

"No way! You're serious? A _butt print_?"

"Semen on the _keyboard_?"

"They were getting it on on his _desk_?"

Sara giggled at the expressions on Nick's, Warrick's and Greg's faces as they listened to her story and looked at the evidence she had spread across the layout room table. She wished she had a camera. She would have loved to capture their faces forever.

"Man." Greg exhaled and sat back on his stool. "Why don't I ever get the fun cases?"

"What, you didn't have fun digging through the dumpster behind the mob restaurant last night?" Warrick teased.

"Hey, yeah, you two got some erotic athlete case, didn't you?" Greg exclaimed, sitting up straight. He shook his head. "You guys had a strip club, Sara had sex in an office –"

"Whoa," Sara interrupted, holding up her hands and laughing. "Sara did _not_ have sex in an office!"

Greg grinned. "You know what I mean."

"Hey, everyone."

"Hi, Griss."

He looked up from the assignment slip in his hands. "Well, I'm sorry to break up the party, but I need Sara."

"Oh?" Sara asked. "What's up?"

"We are going on a road trip," he replied. "A body was found in the pool at the Sugar Cane Ranch."

"Where's that?" Sara asked blankly.

"Way out," Grissom replied. "It's not even in Clark County. But, it still falls under our lab's jurisdiction."

"Okay, then," Sara said, sliding off her stool. "Bring on the fun."

Warrick choked back a laugh. "Sara … do you know what the Sugar Cane Ranch _is_?"

"I'm guessing it's a ranch," she said slowly. "But, I have a feeling you're going to tell me I'm wrong."

Warrick grinned. "It's a brothel, sweetheart."

Sara's mouth dropped open. "Are you _kidding_ me? Two nights in a row?"

"To be fair, I had no idea what you were in for last night," Grissom said, holding up a hand in self-defense.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Oh, whatever. Let's just go and get this over with."

"Hey, Sara, I'll take your place if you want," Greg offered.

Sara laughed. "You'll be the first one I call if we need help."

"Nice," Greg said with a grin.

Sara shook her head, still smiling. She looked at Grissom. "When are we leaving?"

"Now."

"Okay. See you later, guys." Sara bent down to pick up her kit.

"Yeah, we'll pack up your evidence for you," Nick said.

"After we've fully studied it, of course," Warrick added with a wink.

Sara laughed and followed Grissom out of the room. He frowned slightly.

"What evidence?"

"From last night. I was showing them the butt print and keyboard."

"You actually saved the butt print?"

"You thought I wouldn't?"

Grissom smiled and shook his head. "Come on. Let's go to a brothel."

Sara giggled. "I had no idea you were so kinky."

Grissom sighed and shook his head, holding the door open for her to pass into the parking structure ahead of him.

* * *

Local police presence was what Sara had come to expect of a small town: far too many cops in far too small an area. One met them at the entrance to the ranch.

"Hi," he said. "Welcome to Bryant County. I'm Ned Bastille; I'm the Sheriff."

"Hello, Sheriff," Grissom said, shaking the man's extended hand. "My name is Gil Grissom; this is Sara Sidle. Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"I'm glad you're here," he said. "I want to get this body out of here and get everyone back to bed."

"Where is the body?" Grissom asked.

"Right this way," he said, leading them down a path that was framed by Grecian-style pillars and statues.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Sara asked.

"I don't have much information," he said delicately.

"Well, how about what you know, then?" Sara pressed.

"Yeah, one of the girls fished him out of the pool and they called me. No one has touched the body since."

"Where's your coroner?" Grissom asked.

"Ah, couldn't get him on the horn," Ned said, a bit irritated. "Probably out in some barn … up to his elbows in a cow's vagina."

Sara and Grissom both frowned, looking at Ned as though he had grown a second head.

"Excuse me?" Sara asked.

"Oh," Ned said, chuckling. "Yeah, coroner's a part-time gig here in Bryant County. He's a veterinarian; that's his money gig."

Sara nodded and pulled her phone from her pocket to call for a coroner. Grissom shook his head slightly; he was reminded forcibly of his jaunt to Jackpot several years before.

Ned led them further into the ranch, through a throng of prostitutes and elderly people. Sara looked around in amazement at the collection of "concerned citizens."

"Strange crowd for a cat house," Grissom commented.

"Yeah, that's because –"

Ned's comment was cut off by an elderly man who shook off the police officer who was trying to placate him.

"Sheriff," he said, "did you hear about my wife? Somebody shot my wife!"

Ned paused and nodded, smiling slightly.

"Somebody … shot … my wife!"

"Yeah, okay, all right, settle down, settle down," Ned said. He touched the man's arm briefly, then kept walking. He turned to Grissom and Sara as they moved past the older man. "His wife died about ten years ago of a stroke."

"What is with all the old timers out here tonight?" Sara asked.

"Oh, they live here! Yeah, all over these hills. Cheap rent … plenty of sunshine … life is good here in Bryant County."

They finally reached the pool, where their victim was lying next to a broken lawn chair. Grissom shone his flashlight down on the unfortunate man.

"Guy's name is Lorenzo Morales," Ned said.

"Happy Morales!" Grissom said. "I saw him fight LeRoy Steele at the Sands a couple years ago."

Ned nodded with a smile.

"Took a vicious beating," Grissom continued. "Never touched the mat _once_."

"Well, he's definitely down for the count," Sara said.

"Hey, listen, I want – I want to tell you something," Ned said. "George and Doris Babinkian own this place; they run a real tight ship. _Never_ had a problem in all the years they've been here. Just … good people, pay their taxes, provide employment, pillars of the community. You know, last month they had a –"

He stopped talking as a girl clad in a bra, panties, stockings and garter belts tapped his shoulder. He turned to look at her and she swung a pistol holster into his hands.

"Ned, you left this in my room again," she said.

"Oh, thanks," he mumbled.

She leaned up to kiss his cheek, then walked way.

"She …" Ned began. Unable to find a way to make it look better, he smiled embarrassedly and took his leave.

Grissom looked at Sara. She met his eyes for a moment before looking down to stop herself from dissolving into fits of giggles. Following her lead, Grissom crouched down next to the body.

"Look at this," he said, indicating two holes on the victim's neck.

"Gunshot wound?" Sara suggested, shining her flashlight over the neck.

"Maybe," Grissom conceded, raising his camera to take a picture.

"He's got a contusion over his right eye," Sara observed. "Could be associated with the incident."

"Well, he was a boxer," Grissom pointed out, continuing on his photo documentation mission.

Sara stepped away, past the broken chair. She crouched down and dipped her fingers into the pool.

"Feels like bath water," she said. "It's gotta be ninety degrees. There's no way we're going to get an accurate TOD."

Grissom nodded. "Places like this always keep their pools warm. It encourages the girls to swim topless. Good for business."

Sara gave him a look, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Grissom glanced at her and realized some backpedaling may be necessary. "So they tell me," he added.

Sara smirked. "Right."

"Hey," Brass said as he joined them. He looked down at the body. "So, this is how a dead, washed up boxer looks."

"I hope I end my career on a higher note than he ended his," Sara said.

Brass smiled at her. "A shining star like you? You will."

Sara smiled, and returned to her perusal of the scene.

"Look, I've got over twenty witnesses to interview," Brass said. "And that just counts the employees. It's more if I start counting all the other 'concerned citizens.' I'm guessing that you two will need to spend some quality time with Happy before doing anything else, and, to be honest, I'd like to consider going home sometime in the next three days. Mind if we call in some help?"

"I promised Greg he'd be the first one we'd call," Sara said.

"Let's bring him and Nick up," Grissom said. "I have a feeling this one could take some time and manpower to sort out."

"You've got it," Sara said, pulling out her phone.

Brass chuckled. "Warrick's going to feel left out."

"I don't think his wife will be too upset that he missed out on this one," Grissom said.

Brass chuckled again. "David should be here soon. I'm going to go direct him back."

Grissom nodded and returned to studying the body.

"Okay," Sara said, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "Nick and Greg said they have to wrap up a few things, and they'll be on their way."

"Greg's willing to delay getting here?" Grissom asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sara smiled. "When Catherine's in charge of when he can leave … yes."

* * *

When Nick and Greg arrived at the ranch, David and Grissom had just left with the body. Sara and Brass were standing by the pool, mapping out their plan of attack.

"Hey," Nick said as they approached. "We missed Grissom?"

"He'll be back," Sara replied. "He went with the body, but he's going to put Catherine and Warrick on it and come back to help us here."

"So, where do we start?" Greg asked, grinning in cheerful anticipation of the work ahead of them.

Sara and Brass exchanged a grin.

"Nick, you're going to help me process the scene," Sara said. "We're going to start here by the pool because that's where the body was found, but I sort of doubt that it's the primary."

"You've got it," Nick said, already crouching down to open his kit.

"Greg, you're coming with me to interview the hookers," Brass said.

"Seriously?" Greg asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

"Seriously," Brass said, trying not to laugh. "Sara thought you might enjoy it."

Greg looked at her and shook his head. "You've been talking to Catherine."

"Hey, she made that T and A comment so many times that it became hard to ignore," Sara said, laughing. "Besides, you're the one who spent his first year in the field hoping for a trick roll."

"I think I'm hurt," Greg said. "I've grown since then. Matured."

"Right," Nick said with a chuckle as he stood up again. "That's why you were so excited when Sara called to ask us to come here."

Greg made a face. "Fine. You two can believe whatever you want to believe. I'm going to help Brass conduct interviews."

"Actually, you're going to be getting DNA and fingerprints," Brass said. "I'll do the interviews."

"Whatever." Greg turned to follow Brass to the main building of the ranch.

"Hey, Greggo, remember: _cheek swabs_ for DNA," Nick called.

Greg shook his head and held up his right hand with one finger extended. Sara and Nick both laughed.

* * *

"Hi, guys."

"You're back!" Sara said as Grissom came up behind her and Nick. "How's everything at the lab?"

"Doc's already working on the body and Catherine and Warrick are processing the clothes. How are things here?"

"Sara and I looking for the bullet that did in our boxer," Nick replied. "Brass and Greg are inside doing interviews."

Grissom nodded. "You two have this under control?"

"Yeah," Sara said.

"Okay. I'm going to go check on the guys inside, then."

"Have fun," Nick said.

Grissom smiled and left for the ranch house. Sara turned to Nick.

"Okay, I'm not seeing anything anywhere near this pool. How far do you think he could have staggered with a wound like that in his neck?"

"Well, assuming the bullet missed all major arteries, he could have made it a pretty good distance," Nick said. "It would take some time to bleed out."

Sara nodded. "Okay. I guess we need to fan out, then."

"Right. You want to go this way and I'll go that way?"

"Works for me."

* * *

"Hey."

Sara looked up as Grissom came out of the main ranch building. "Hey."

"Still looking for your bullet?"

"Yeah," she said. "Done with your interviews?"

"For now," he said. "I'm going to check out Happy's trailer. Want to come with?"

"Sure," she said, falling into step with him. "How did the interviews go?"

He shook his head. "Twenty-five people here last night, and nobody sees anything."

"Nice hat, honey," one of the "pleasure providers" said to Grissom as she passed them.

Sara looked at Grissom's straw hat and smiled. "So, you've – uh – been to a place like this before?"

"I worked a murder-suicide at the Naughty Kitty once," he said.

"No, no, come on. You know what I mean."

"As a customer?" Grissom was appalled at the suggestion. "No."

"You've never paid for sex?" Sara asked, strangely surprised.

"I have not," Grissom said a bit stiffly, still slightly shocked at the implication. "I find the whole idea very … bleak."

"Really?" Sara asked. "How come?"

"Sex should provide the opportunity for human connection. Paid sex does the opposite of that. To me … sex without love is … pointless. It makes you sad."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I don't make you sad," Sara said with a smile, half-teasing him.

"No," he said, giving her a smile. "You make me happy."

Sara smiled at him again, then preceded him up the steps to Happy's trailer, a thousand thoughts and memories going through her mind. She forced away the memory of the first time she and Grissom had made love and the conversation they had had immediately afterward, and made herself focus on the task at hand.

She had to admit that she was proud of herself. Not everyone would be able to go back to work after such a conversation. Not everyone would be able to focus when she was so blissfully happy.

Not everyone would be able to work when her entire being was filled with such love.

* * *

"Hey, Nicky!"

Nick looked up from his search of the driveway as Grissom approached. "Hey, boss. What's up?"

"I just got off the phone with Catherine," he said. "She needs us to find the weapon that gave Happy the blow to the head."

"Okay," Nick said slowly. "I hope she had something more specific for you."

"Yeah," Grissom said. "She and Warrick photo enhanced the bruises and found the letters, 'IN CH,' on his head."

"That's all you've got for me?" Nick said.

Grissom shrugged. "Sorry. Good luck."

"Yeah, thanks," Nick said. "Hey, if you see Sara, tell her I'm abandoning the bullet search for now. I'm going to go see if any of the girls here are armed."

"Sure."

Grissom went back into Happy's trailer, where Sara was still bagging his extensive pill collection. She looked up with a smile when he came in.

"Hey," she said. "Did you find Nick?"

"Yeah," he replied. "He said to let you know he's abandoning the bullet search for now. He's going to find the weapon that gave Happy the contusion over his eye."

Sara smiled. "See? I told you it was related to the incident."

"You are wise," Grissom said. "I was foolish to ever doubt you."

Sara smirked and turned back to her photo documentation and collection.

"Sara …"

"Yeah?" she asked without looking up from her task.

"Have _you_ ever paid for sex?"

Sara's head snapped up. "No-o," she said. "Why would you think that?"

"You were awfully surprised when I said I hadn't," Grissom replied with a slight shrug.

Sara smiled. "Well, you're a guy … you've lived in Vegas a long time …" Her cheeks flushed pink. "Stereotyping, I suppose. Clearly, it was a mistake."

Grissom looked thoughtful. "What do you think about sex?"

"With you or in general?"

"You know what I mean."

Sara thought for a moment. "Sex is … vulnerability. It's letting your partner see you for who you really are … letting him know you for who you really are. It's giving yourself over to him … admitting that you can be more than yourself." She flushed again. "I'm not making much sense."

"No," Grissom said quietly, "you're making an incredible amount of sense. And, Sara –"

"Hey, Griss, I think I've found what we're looking for!"

Grissom and Sara maintained eye contact for two seconds before Grissom smiled helplessly and looked to Nick, who was bounding up the steps and into the trailer.

"What did you find?"

"A crowbar – MADE IN CHINA."

"Where did you find it?"

"Under Dreama's bed," he said, referring to one of the girls who worked at the ranch. He shook his head. "I dusted it for prints – it's clean. But, there's blood in the grooves. I've already swabbed it for a sample for Wendy."

"Good work, Nick."

He smiled. "Thanks. Brass said he's going to take the crowbar, my samples and Dreama back to PD."

"So, does that mean that we're done?" Sara asked.

"No," Grissom said. "We still need to figure out how he got the bump to the head. Just because the crowbar was under Dreama's bed doesn't mean that she had anything to do with it."

Nick looked at Sara. "He can't ever let us take it easy, can he?"

She laughed.

"I'll let you eat lunch, if you'd like," Grissom said with a smile.

"You're too good to us."

* * *

"Okay, guys, I've got some bad news."

Sara and Nick looked up from their sandwiches as Grissom joined them.

"What's the bad news?"

"According to Doc, the blow to the head _isn't_ what killed Happy." He chuckled. "Unfortunately for Brass, Doc didn't determine that until _after_ Brass had pulled a confession out of Dreama."

"Wait," Sara said. "She confessed to a crime she didn't commit?"

"Oh, she certainly did hit him," Grissom said. "But, Brass convinced her that she had killed him, which wasn't the case."

"What is COD?" Nick asked.

"Al's still working on it."

"So, we're back to hunting for the bullet?"

"Yes."

Nick sighed. "So much for lunch."

* * *

Sara walked from Happy's gym to the SUV carrying a bag of more pill bottles that she had found in the dressing room. As she walked, she noticed blood on the ground. Crouching down, she put an evidence marker next to it. She began to walk even slower, searching for more blood. She had just found and marked another spot when Nick joined her, putting his phone away.

"Hey," he said. "Catherine said we might not be looking for a bullet anymore."

"Did she happen to say what we are looking for?" Sara asked.

"Not a bullet," Nick replied, crouching down across from her.

"Well, it looks like we have blood drops heading toward Happy's trailer."

"Hey!"

They both looked up as the man that Sara had seen telling the Sheriff that his wife had been shot approached them.

"You kids – you caught your – caught your guy?" he asked.

"No, sir," Nick replied.

"Gonna catch him?" he asked.

"We certainly hope so," Sara said, still studying the blood drops.

"Well," he said, coming to a stop next to them, "think this might be of some help?"

Nick and Sara looked up in shock as the older man held up a picture of a woman with an arrow protruding from a spot between her eyes. The glass in the frame was shattered where the arrow had penetrated it. They looked at each other, both clearly thinking the same thing: _It's not a bullet._

"I told you," the man said, handing Nick the picture as he and Sara stood up, "_somebody_ _shot my wife_. Come on, I'll show you."

"Thanks," Nick said, "Mr. …"

"Just Milton," he said, leading them to his trailer. "Everybody calls me Milton."

"Well, Milton, I'm Nick Stokes, and this is Sara Sidle."

"Pleasure," Milton said. He opened the door of his trailer.

"Can you show us where the picture was when the arrow hit it?" Sara asked.

"Right there," he said, indicating an open spot on the picture-laden wall.

"There is what appears to be blood on the shaft," Nick said as he hung the picture in its original place.

Sara began taking pictures.

"I told 'em, I told 'em, but would they listen? Nah," Milton said.

"Did you see this happen?" Sara asked.

"No," he said. "No, I woke up this morning and found her … like that." He paused. "'I shot an arrow into the air / and it fell to earth, I knew not where / For, so swiftly it flew, the sight / Could not follow it in its flight. / Long, long –'"

"Sir," Nick interrupted. "That's – that's really sweet."

Sara pursed her lips to hide her smile. She knew that Nick hated poetry; he only tolerated it from Grissom out of respect for – and fear of – his boss.

"That's _Longfellow_," Milton said. He began to laugh. "What do you kids know about poetry?"

Sara put down her camera and looked at the window. She noticed a hole in the screen. "Nick?"

He turned from Milton to look at her.

"Arrow came in through that window," she said.

"Yeah," Nick said. He took his leave, off to find the arrow's likely origin.

"Even an _idiot_ could see that," Milton said, giving the appearance of talking to himself.

Sara rolled her eyes and returned to work. Milton was beginning to remind her of her eleventh grade English teacher. She, too, had believed that the younger generation was nearly lost, but could be saved by memorizing Longfellow. Sara shook her head at the memory of hours spent memorizing the very poem that Milton had quoted.

"You okay?" Milton asked.

"Fine," she replied. She put her camera away and took out a swab.

She had just finished swabbing the blood on the arrow when Nick returned.

"Hey, Sara!"

She turned to see her colleague standing outside the window. He was holding an arrow identical to the one in the picture.

"Found another arrow," he said. "It was shot into the ground near that tool shed."

"Maybe the shooter got nervous," Sara suggested.

"Well, to work in a brothel, you're required to register your fingerprints, so …"

"I'm almost done here," Sara said. "I'll catch up."

"Okay," Nick replied, turning to leave. "I'll let you know if we get lucky."

"'A long time afterward,'" Sara began as she turned around and took the arrow from the picture, "'in an oak / I found the arrow, still unbroke / And the song, from beginning to end / I found again in the heart of a friend.'"

Milton looked at her in amazement.

"Keep the faith, Milton," she said with a parting smile.

Milton's smile followed her out of the trailer.

* * *

The arrow had been shot by Connor, a bartender at the ranch. He told Brass that he had just done it to protect the girls from Happy's constant harassment.

Brass, once again, found himself convincing a suspect that what he had done had ultimately led to Happy's death, only to have his work undone by Doc Robbins. They, once again, had found the cause of an injury that had not necessarily caused Happy's death.

* * *

"Wait," Sara said as she and Grissom drove back to the lab. "Happy got hit on the head with a crowbar, but that didn't kill him. He also took an arrow to the neck, but _that_ didn't kill him. What did?"

"Well, apparently, Happy was in the middle of an allergic reaction to shellfish," Grissom said. "The arrow managed to transect his airway just right – Connor saved Happy's life by unwittingly performing a field tracheotomy."

Sara shook her head. "This is just too weird."

"The weirdest part is that Doc didn't find any traces of shellfish in Happy's digestive system," Grissom said. "Greg and Hodges are going through the trash from the ranch right now. If they can find the shellfish, maybe we can figure out how they found their way into Happy."

Sara ran her hands over her face. "Sometimes, I'd love to have a quiet night."

"Nah," Grissom said with a smile. "You'd be bored."

* * *

Upon arrival at the lab, Sara went straight for the locker room. After what felt like years in the field, she desperately wanted a shower. She found Greg sitting there, looking … odd.

"Hey," she said.

It took him a moment to look up at her. "Hey," he echoed.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you think I'm weird?"

Sara frowned with a slight smile. "Is this a trick question?"

"I've never bought a hooker," he blurted out. "I've never paid for sex."

"Neither have I," Sara admitted. _Neither has Grissom!_ She wouldn't have thought any less of him if he had, but somehow, knowing that he hadn't made her feel … happy. She had to suppress a giddy smile. _Happy_. She made him happy.

"Hodges tried to pick up a hooker, but the girl turned out to be an undercover cop," Greg continued.

Sara giggled. "That sounds like something that would happen to Hodges."

"I don't know," Greg said slowly. "Listening to him … it was like I missed out on some rite of passage."

Sara sat down next to him. "Greg. Please, don't ever judge your life against anyone else's. Especially not Hodges's." She shook her head. "For the love of God," she muttered. "_Hodges_."

Greg finally smiled. "Okay, okay, I get your point. Anyway, after what I've seen since this case started … well, let's just say that I have no desire to see any more of the seedy side of things."

Sara grinned. "I think that the _seedy side of things_ is what keeps us in business."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah," she said. She smiled. "This job can take all the mystic right out of things, can't it?"

"Well, to be fair … I'm not sure that a brothel ever deserved all the mystic I gave it."

"Look at you, being all romantic," Sara said, shoving her shoulder into his.

"Aw, leave me alone."

She grinned. "I'm going to take a shower. You okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "Thanks, Sara."

"Hey, that's what friends are for … Listening to your bizarre stories."

Greg's laughter followed her into the shower room.

* * *

Greg's and Hodges's search of the ranch's trash yielded a cocktail's worth of shrimp tails. Analysis proved that they had all been touched by Binky, but eaten by Doris, the owners of the Sugar Cane Ranch.

"So, wait," Sara said as she and Grissom looked over the results. "If Doris ate the shrimp, how the hell did they end up in Happy?"

"I don't know," Grissom said.

Sara's eyes grew round. "Were Doris and Happy having an affair?"

"I don't know," Grissom said blankly. "Maybe someone mentioned it to Brass. Why?"

Sara's eyes began to twinkle. "I just thought of a way the shrimp could have gotten into Happy."

Grissom frowned. "What do you mean?"

"_You_ know what I mean," Sara said, glancing down and then back up again, her eyes still twinkling. She gave him a naughty grin.

Grissom's eyes widened. "You think …?"

"Mm-hm."

"Hey, Grissom," David said as he entered Grissom's office. "I have the final reports on how the shellfish found their way into Happy."

"Thanks, David," Grissom said. He took the file from David and flipped it open. He read the information and looked up at Sara in surprise. "Well, Ms. Sidle, it looks like you were right. Shellfish entered through the urethra."

Sara giggled. "Some things are _so_ predictable."

* * *

Grissom and Brass returned to the ranch, where they learned that Binky had known of Happy's shellfish allergy, but Doris had not. Suspecting that his wife was having an affair with the boxer, he had fed her the shellfish as a test of her fidelity.

While decisions were being made about which one to charge, Doc Robbins again burst their bubble. He had found puncture wounds on Happy's leg that were discovered to be the point of entry for snake venom.

"Smashed with a crowbar," Catherine began in disbelief, "shot by a crossbow, poisoned by shrimp and now bitten by a snake?"

"Sort of," Doc replied.

He explained that although Happy had real snake venom in his system, he did not have actual snake bites. The marks on his leg had been made by needles, not a snake's fangs.

"Greg found this in the trash of one of the girls' rooms," Grissom said, holding up a picture of a syringe Greg had found during his trash exploration mission with Hodges.

"Which girl?" Catherine asked.

"Dreama," Grissom said.

Catherine chuckled. "Well, at least she and Brass are already old friends."

* * *

During interrogation, Dreama and Connor admitting to working together to inject Happy with the snake venom. Dreama, whose father was a snake-handling preacher, had concocted the plot and milked the venom from the snake, but Connor had injected Happy with the venom.

* * *

"Grissom, I need some help."

Grissom chuckled as he looked at the man standing across his desk. "Well, look, Jeffrey, I don't know what help I can be."

"Funny," the ADA said. "Look, we've gone over all your reports and evidence, and it looks like about forty-five different people could have killed this boxer. So, we have no idea who to charge."

Grissom nodded. "How can we help?"

"We need an accurate timeline," Jeffrey replied. "Maybe if we can put all these injuries in order, we can decide who set off the chain of events and take that person to trial."

"Okay," Grissom agreed. "Let me talk to my team, and I'll get back to you."

"Thanks, Grissom."

Grissom nodded as he got up from his chair. "That's why we're here."

* * *

Working together, Grissom, Catherine and Nick determined that in round one of the night's events, Happy had been injected with the snake venom by Connor and Dreama, which, as Nick pointed out, was attempted murder with conspiracy to commit.

"Earlier that night, Binky fed Doris some jumbo tiger shrimp, knowing that she'd eventually find Happy for round two," Grissom said.

"He probably wasn't feeling well by then," Nick said. "The venom would have started to hit him pretty hard."

"So," Catherine said, "Doris administers some very special first aid, and Happy's little soldier swells to battalion size."

Grissom smiled, amused by her metaphor.

"Babinkian knew about that shellfish allergy," Nick said. "That's intent, right?"

"In any event," Grissom said, "Binky and Doris lawyered up. They're sticking together."

"How romantic," Catherine said, shaking her head. "So, now Happy … is not so happy, 'cause he's heading into anaphylactic shock."

"According to narco, Happy had epinephrine in his trailer," Grissom said, "which is probably what he was trying to get to in round three."

"So," Catherine said, "his throat is incredibly swollen, he can't breathe, he's stumbling to his trailer … and Connor, with amazing, odds-defying accuracy, manages to shoot him straight through the neck with a crossbow without killing him."

"That's assault with a deadly weapon," Nick said.

"But, not necessarily murder," Grissom said.

"So, the field tracheotomy buys un-Happy enough time to get to the epi," Nick said.

Grissom nodded. "And, that explains all the blood Sara and I found in his trailer."

Catherine shook her head. "At this point, you'd think he would have just called it a night. Watched a little tv, hit the sack …" She shook her head again. "But … no."

"He goes back to Dreama's room, where she's ready for him," Nick said. "She bangs him on the head with the crowbar, and he stumbles away."

"Which brings us to round four," Grissom said. "He goes back to the pool, sits down in the chair the girls told Brass that Binky told Happy to fix – he didn't – and lights up a cigarette. The chair finally breaks, dumping Happy into the pool." He paused. "The TKO."

"You do know what a good defense attorney's going to say to all this, don't you?" Nick asked.

"What?" Catherine asked.

Nick smiled. "The lawn chair did it."

Catherine looked at Grissom; they both smiled.

"I don't know who they're going to charge or how they're going to prove any one of these things killed him," Grissom said. "But, we've done our part. I'll send our findings to the DA's office. Good job, everyone."

Nick smiled. "Does that mean we can call it a night?"

"By all means."

"In that case … I'll see you both tomorrow."

* * *

When Grissom got home, he found Sara on the couch, reading a book. She smiled and sat up when he came in, and watched as he greeted the dog.

"Hi," he said, finally managing to get away from Hank. He leaned down to kiss her. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to take a shower and take Hank for a walk," she said. She put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down for another, more thorough kiss.

"Mm," Grissom hummed against her lips. "Glad to see me?"

"Yes," Sara whispered. She grabbed his shoulders and leaned back, pulling him off-balance. He fell down on her.

"Sara!" he exclaimed. "I could have hurt you!"

She giggled. "I'm fine," she said. She ran her hand up his chest, his neck, the side of his face, and into his hair. "I want you here with me," she whispered. She kissed him again. "I want to make you happy."

"Sara …"

"Shhh," she whispered, kissing him again. "Don't you want me to make you happy, Griss?"

"You always make me happy," he said, playing with her hair. "Just knowing that you're here with me – that you'll _always_ be here with me – makes me happy."

Sara's smile lit up the room. "You make me happy, too."


	91. Vocalization

A/N: I guess you could say this chapter wrote itself! I can't remember the last time anything was so easy to write. I'm pleased with it, and I hope you like it, too.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are taken from episode 722, "Leapin' Lizards." Additional inspiration is taken from the deleted scene of episode 812, "Grissom's Divine Comedy." I also claim no ownership of Godzilla or Mothra. But, hey, they wanted a piece of the action, so here they are!

* * *

_Vocalization_

Grissom sat on his bed, a book of Shakespeare open on his lap. He wasn't looking at the familiar words. Rather, his attention was captured by the envelope in his hands.

He had kept the letter he had written for Sara since his time at Williams. When he had decided not to send it, he had planned to give it to her when he got home. But, when he arrived home, so much had happened. Keppler's death, the new miniature, the missing teenagers, David's wedding, the girl dying in Sara's arms, the James family continuing to haunt the lab … the list was endless, and hadn't left him the time that he felt such a personal delivery deserved. The time that _Sara_ deserved.

But, maybe now … with things slowing down …

"Hey."

Grissom's head snapped up as Sara came rushing into the room wearing her panties, bra and stockings. He dropped the letter into the book as she flew past him on her way to the closet.

"Can I help you with something?" he called, shutting the book and putting it on his nightstand.

"I'm running late," she said. She came back out of the closet carrying her black court suit and gave him a coy smile. "_Someone_ had problems letting me get out of bed."

Grissom grinned. "I didn't hear you protesting at the time."

She winked at him, then pulled on her suit and moved to the mirror to check her hair. Deciding that she hadn't done too much damage when she pulled her top over her head, she patted a few pieces back into place, then stepped into her shoes.

"You are actually testifying today, right?" Grissom asked. He had watched Sara get dressed for court twice already over the course of the week.

"Yes," she said. "Maddie promised I'd be up first today."

"That's good."

"Why? Do you need me for a case?"

He smiled. "I just need you."

Sara leaned down to touch his cheek. She placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "You are very sweet."

"And you are very beautiful," he said, reaching up to touch her curls.

Sara leaned back out of his reach. "Don't. I spent forever on my hair."

Grissom laughed. "Sorry."

"I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. "Have fun."

"Yeah, you, too."

Blowing him a kiss, Sara left the room. Grissom heard the front door close and sighed. They needed a decent amount of time alone together for him to be able to give her the letter.

The letter …

He reached over to take it from its place in the book when his phone rang. Changing his hand's direction, he picked up the phone instead.

"Grissom."

"Hey, Gil, it's Jim," Brass said. "I've got a weird one for you … bring a couple of your guys along. You're going to need the help."

"What have you got?" Grissom asked.

"Suspect in the Chyna DeVere disappearance engaged us in gunfire," Brass said. "One member of SWAT got hit – he'll be fine – and the suspect committed suicide. But … this place is going to take you some time to process."

"Okay," Grissom said. "I'll call Nick and Warrick. We'll be right there."

* * *

Sara, as anticipated, finished her participation in the trial quickly. When she walked out of the courtroom and turned on her phone, she found that she had a message from Grissom asking her to meet him at a scene.

"So much for an easy day," she said with a sigh. She pressed the button to call him back.

"Hi," he said, picking up on the second ring. "Done testifying?"

"Yes," she said. "And, I just listened to your message. You need help?"

"Yeah, I do," he said.

"Okay," she said. "I'm going to go back to the lab to change and pick up my kit, and then I'll be there."

"Okay," he said. "I'll see you when you get here."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone and put it back in her bag. It was time to get to work.

* * *

Even with the entire team working together, their new case was far from easy, meaning that it would take a considerable amount of time to solve. Without ever truly discussing it, the team agreed that they would take it one shift at a time – and save their doubles for the cases that were more of a race against the clock.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Grissom asked quietly as he and Sara put their evidence and kits into the back of the SUV he had driven to the scene.

Sara gave him a smile. "I think I could fit it into my calendar. What did you have in mind?"

"There's a nice Italian place between here and the city," Grissom said. "I thought maybe we could stop on the way back."

"I'd love to." Sara looked at their clothes, her eyes lingering on her own jeans. "Are we dressed appropriately?"

"It's not fancy," Grissom replied.

"Okay," she said. "I'll follow you there?"

"Perfect."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, they were seated with their meals before them, sipping red wine from the bottle Grissom had ordered. As much as Sara loved eating dinner together at home, she had to admit that being out for a meal – out on a _date_ – was very appealing.

"So, I've been thinking about something," Grissom said, his words cutting off her thoughts.

Sara looked at him and smirked. "You want to join the UFO club, too?" she asked, referring to their new case.

Grissom smiled. "No."

"Okay," Sara said, twirling her pasta on her fork, "I'm out of guesses. Tell me."

Grissom looked thoughtful. "I think I want to build a miniature."

Sara's fork stopped midair. "What?"

"I'm serious," Grissom said, taking a sip of his wine. "I think it might help with the case."

"How?" Sara asked, quickly becoming intrigued.

"Well, it would put me in contact with some of the same people the killer knows. I could easily go into every hobby shop in Vegas and ask questions _without_ building a miniature, but if I actually start to work on my own, I'd be more … one of them. I'd have access to people that we'd never hear about otherwise, or who might be reluctant to talk to cops. I might meet the people who made components of the miniatures, even if it was unwittingly. If I'm lucky, I could actually meet the killer."

"You're saying you want to go undercover?" Sara asked.

Grissom looked thoughtful. "I guess I am."

"What would you build?"

"My office. It has to be a place I know extremely well if I'm going to match it as closely as the killer matches the scenes."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "You've given this a lot of thought."

"I've been thinking about it for awhile."

"You never said anything."

He shrugged. "I wasn't sure how you'd react. I wanted to be certain that I was going to do it before making you even consider it." He paused. "Sara, I won't do it if it bothers you. I mean, it's going to be in our house … if you don't want to have to look at it everyday, I won't do it. Like I said, there are other ways I can get similar information."

Sara raised her eyebrows slightly. "I'm not going to tell you not to do it, Gil. If you think it'll help, then go for it."

"You're okay with it?"

"Mostly," she said. "I'll admit that it's a little … odd. And, yeah, it'll probably freak me out a bit when you first start. But, if it's going to help us catch the killer, then, do it. I'll get used to it." She smiled. "Unless, of course, you're going to create a little Sara doll with her head chopped off sitting at your desk or something."

He smiled. "Wasn't in my plans."

"Good. Then, build away, my burly carpenter."

Grissom smiled again and shook his head. "I'm going to take some measurements and pictures when we get back to the lab. I'll get started in the next few days."

* * *

Sara could not remember the last time she had worked a case that had been so … strange. From the human bones Nick had found in the suspect's pigpen to the behavior of the man's friends, nothing had been what Sara would classify as "normal." The one good thing about the case was that it was slow-moving, which meant she and Grissom got to spend plenty of quality time at home together.

Sara walked into the bedroom with yogurt in hand to find Grissom and Hank already stretched across the bed. Smiling, she sat down on Grissom's side of the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

"I am so glad to be home," she said. "This case is getting weird."

"What bothers you about it?" Grissom teased, flipping the channels on the television. "The fact that we found our missing person's taxidermied head mounted in the suspect's barn? The fact that another suspect thought that Greg was an alien and bit him? The fact that the entire thing involves people who believe alien reptiles called Reptilians are breeding with humans to create some bizarre new race? The fact that –"

"Okay," Sara said, laughing. She pulled the top off her yogurt, licked it and put it on Grissom's nightstand. "Point made. This case has been weird from the beginning."

Grissom laughed and continued his mission to find something to watch. He landed on an old monster movie and began to laugh.

"What?" Sara asked.

"Godzilla," he said, gesturing toward the tv.

Sara looked up from her yogurt and laughed. "Very appropriate. Hey, do you think he's Reptilian?"

Grissom laughed again. "You've seen Godzilla before?"

"Yeah, I remember watching it with my cousin when I was little," Sara said. "He loved all these monster movies." She settled back against the pillows with her yogurt. "We're so watching this. We have to. We owe it to all our UFO club friends."

Grissom handed her the remote, which she put on the nightstand without looking.

"You've seen this?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," he said. He grinned. "_I_ loved all the monster movies when I was little."

Sara looked at him with her head cocked to the side as if in deep thought. "Let me guess. Your favorite was … Mothra?"

"Clearly," he said. "You know me so well."

Sara grinned. "You're not tough to figure out. So, if you're a big Mothra fan, I'll bet that you never liked Godzilla."

"Well, he wasn't so bad when he was fighting along with Mothra."

Sara laughed. "This Reptilian thing must be tough for you to swallow … it's like seeing all Mothra's enemy's followers."

Grissom shook his head. "Just watch the movie."

"So testy," she said. "I'll bet you wouldn't have such an attitude if Mothra were in this one."

Grissom laughed again. "Well, we'll just have to find a Mothra movie to test your theory."

He leaned forward to scratch Hank's ears, while Sara turned her attention to the movie.

"It's not as good without Mothra," Grissom said after watching two scenes.

Sara chuckled. "No one's holding you here."

"I could go start on my miniature …"

"You do what you have to do," Sara said.

Grissom laughed and resumed petting the dog.

"I always feel sorry for the monster," Sara confessed after a few moments.

"Then you'd better turn it off before they use the oxygen destroyer on him," Grissom advised, laughing.

Deciding that his time would be better spent on the miniature, he stood up to leave, whistling for Hank to follow. Figuring that he had a point about the oxygen destroyer, Sara put her yogurt on the nightstand and reached for the remote. As her fingers closed on it, she realized that she had put it on a book of Shakespeare that Grissom had clearly been reading. However, unlike his usual habit of leaving a book open and facedown until he came back to the passage he had been reading, he had closed it. An envelope was sticking out of it.

More than a little intrigued, Sara slid the envelope out farther. Her eyes widened as she saw that it was addressed to her in Grissom's handwriting. The forgotten remote was placed on the bed next to her as she pulled the envelope out completely. She stared at it for a long minute. He hadn't finished the address. All he had written was her name and their street number.

Sara glanced toward the door that had framed Grissom only moments before, wondering why he had done this. Why start a letter and never send it?

Deciding that there was only one way to find out, she took the letter from its envelope. Putting the envelope down next to her, she unfolded the paper and began to read, her hands shaking slightly as the words seemed to jump off the page at her.

… _I don't know why I find it so difficult to express my feelings to you. Even though we're far apart, I can see you as vividly as if you were here with me. I said I'll miss you, and I do._

_As Shakespeare more aptly wrote my sentiment in Sonnet #47 …_

… _Thy self away, art present still with me;  
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,  
And I am still with them, and they with thee;  
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight  
Awakes my heart, to heart's and eyes' delight._

Her heart pounding wildly, Sara slowly looked up from the paper. She looked back at the door, half-expecting Grissom to be there watching her read.

As though pulled by her thoughts, he came back into the room.

"Hey," he said. "I forgot my … Sara?"

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at him. She crawled across the bed to the edge closest to where he stood and threw her arms around him, kissing him with an amazing passion. Grissom's arms automatically went around her, pulling her tightly against him. Sara broke the kiss and looked up at him, beaming as tears streaked down her cheeks.

"Sara …" Grissom whispered. He cleared his throat. "Not that I didn't appreciate that, but what's going on?" He reached up to wipe away her tears. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said a bit hoarsely. She pulled herself out of the circle of his arms. "Yeah, I …"

"You what?"

"I found this." She held up the letter.

Grissom frowned slightly, then his eyes widened and a red flush spread across his cheeks. "Oh, God. Oh, Sara."

Fear crept into Sara's eyes. "You didn't want me to see it?"

"No," he said quickly, realizing that he had unintentionally made her think the worst. "No, that's not it at all. It's yours. You were supposed to see it. Just … not like this."

"How did you mean for me to see it?"

Grissom sighed and sat down on the bed with her, taking her hands in his. "I wrote that while I was at Williams. I had every intention of sending it to you."

"Why didn't you? I would have been so excited …"

"I know," he said. "I just … I thought you deserved more than this. I wanted to be able to give it to you in person, to watch your face as you read it … to tell you …"

"To tell me what?" she asked softly.

Grissom smiled, gently caressing her cheek. "To tell you how much I love you."

Fresh tears spilled down Sara's cheeks. "Gil …"

He leaned forward to kiss her tears away. "Oh, Sara. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I've never actually said the words. I just … I wanted it to be special. I wanted to make you feel special when I said it, and no time ever felt right … But, honey, listen to me. I love you. I love you so very much."

Sara threw her arms around him again, hugging him tightly. "I know," she said. "I knew without hearing you say it." She pulled back to look at him. "You make me feel special every single day, Gil. Everything you do for me … every time you talk to me … you make me feel special. And, you make me feel loved."

Grissom brushed her tears away with his thumbs and then kissed the marks they left on her cheeks. Sara's breath became shallow as his kisses moved from her cheeks to her lips. She leaned back, pulling him down on the bed with her.

"Sara," he whispered.

"Make love to me, Gil," she whispered.

Grissom kissed her again, then pulled back. Sara looked at him with questions in her eyes, but he smiled. He took the letter and put it back on the nightstand. Then, he picked up the remote and turned off the tv.

"Godzilla does not need to see this," he said.

Sara laughed and leaned up to kiss him again. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

"So what are you going to do with your night off?"

"Hm," Grissom said. "Work on the miniature, I guess."

Sara smiled. "It doesn't look like much yet."

"Do you have any idea how long it takes just to draw in the grid for something like this?"

"About a week?" Sara teased. Grissom had been painstakingly plotting out his miniature for the past six days.

Grissom frowned at her. "If you weren't so cute, I'd have to take you over my knee for a smart comment like that."

"Hey, if you think I deserve it, I have no problem being punished," Sara said, giving him a suggestive smile.

Grissom grinned and raised his eyebrows. "Well, I may have to punish you when you get home from work."

"Mm…sounds like fun."

He laughed and pulled her close. "You'll be careful tonight?"

"Of course." Sara leaned in to kiss him. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too." Grissom let a strand of her hair slip through his fingers. "You'd better go. I don't want to make you late."

"Yeah," she said, reluctantly leaving his embrace. "I'll see you in the morning."

"See you then."

* * *

Sara rushed down the hall, on a mission to get to the trace lab. A text message from Hodges declaring that he had "case-breaking results" for her spurred her movements. Glancing through the open break room door as she flew past, she saw Warrick sitting there alone, staring down into his coffee as though hoping that it might hold the answers to life's greatest questions.

In an instant, her priorities changed. Hodges and whatever results he had for her could wait. Warrick clearly needed a friend.

"Hey," she said, stepping into the room.

Warrick looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot and lifeless. "Hey."

Sara sat down across from him. "Warrick … what's wrong?"

"Sara …" He scrubbed his hands over his face. "It's not good."

"I can see that," she said. "Will you tell me what happened?"

"It's Tina," he said. "She … we …" His face crumpled, and he fell silent. After taking several deep breaths to bring his emotions under control, he began to speak again. "It's over."

"What do you mean?" Sara's eyes opened wide. She reached across to grab his hand. "Warrick? What happened?"

"She's …" He trailed off again, fighting for control. "She's been having an affair for the past seven months. She just told me last night."

"Oh, God," Sara said. "Warrick, I'm so, so sorry."

"I should have known," he said. "She was always bitching about my hours, always saying I didn't have enough time for her … I should have known that she'd find someone else who would have the time for her."

"How did you find out? Did she just confess everything?"

"No," he said. "I'm such an idiot, Sar. I couldn't see what was happening until I found her damn prenatal vitamins in the bathroom."

Sara's quick intake of breath brought his eyes up. He laughed mirthlessly.

"Can you believe it? She didn't even have the decency to tell me that she's having someone else's baby until I found the evidence. I asked her about it, and she came clean. Told me everything … probably more than I even wanted to know."

"Warrick," Sara said slowly, "are you sure … really, _really_ sure … that it's someone else's baby?"

"Of course it is," Warrick said, his flat tone telling her that there was no other option. "If it were my baby, she would have told me. She would have said something as soon as she thought she might be pregnant. She would have held my hand while she waited for the test results. She would have bitched about my hours while she was making her first doctor's appointment. She would have … She sure as hell wouldn't have waited until I found the vitamins to even tell me that she's pregnant."

"Oh, Warrick," Sara sighed, tightening her grip on his hand. "You don't want to try to work it out?"

He gave the same mirthless laugh. "What's the point? We're always at each other's throats. I'm not willing to give up my job, and she's not willing to accept my schedule. Add another man's baby into the mix, and you've got a recipe for disaster." He drew a deep breath. "Sara … can you not tell anyone about this? I'm glad you know, because I really needed to get it off my chest and tell someone, but I'm not ready for everyone else to know yet."

"I won't say a word," Sara promised. "It's your news. You tell it when you're ready."

"Thanks." He looked down then looked up again. "I just … I really wanted this to work, Sara. I really wanted this to be my happy ending."

Sara squeezed his hand, but remained silent. There were no words that could make this better. There were no words that could take away his pain.

* * *

Hank met her at the door, but Grissom was in the kitchen when Sara walked in at after her shift. She greeted the dog, then started for the kitchen.

"Hi!" Grissom called as she descended the stairs.

"Hi," Sara said, smiling at how cheerful he seemed. Having a night off had been good for him.

"How was work?" he asked, folding her into an embrace as soon as she entered the kitchen.

Sara clung to him for a minute. "Long."

Grissom pulled back slightly, tipping her chin up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, "I'm fine." She hugged him again, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'm just glad to be home. I'm glad to be with you again."

Grissom held her tightly, sensing that she needed the comfort, even though he had no idea why. He kissed the top of her head.

Sara finally pulled back and smiled at him. She leaned up to kiss his lips, then pulled out of his arms. "How was your night off? What did you do with all your free time?"

"Look what I found!" Grissom exclaimed, gesturing toward the refrigerator.

Smiling at the childlike glee on his face, Sara stepped closer to the fridge. There, just below the ladybug magnet she had bought him over a year ago was a picture of them…a very _old_ picture. Frowning slightly, she plucked it from its magnet to study it. She and Grissom were standing side by side, both smiling – Sara had to admit that _she_ was grinning – with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. As the memories flooded over her, a smile spread across her face.

"This is from when you came to visit me, isn't it?"

Grissom cleared his throat. "It's a bit presumptuous to say I was _visiting you_. As I recall, I was giving a lecture."

"Whatever," Sara said with a giggle. "You only agreed to give that lecture so you could see me again, didn't you?"

"Maybe," Grissom replied with a smile. His eyes took on a far-away, dreamy look. "You promised to show me around San Francisco."

"Did I do a good job?"

"Mm-hm."

Sara looked back down at the picture in her hands, remembering how excited she had been that day. "Where did you find this?"

"In … a book."

"A book?"

"Yes."

"Were you using it as a bookmark?"

"Sort of."

Sara gave him a look of exasperation. "If you don't want to tell me …"

"It was marking one of Shakespeare's sonnets," Grissom said in a rush. "Sonnet 47. Every time I read it, I think of you."

Sara felt the color rush to her face as she realized how long Grissom had harbored feelings for her, and how long it had taken him to finally admit them to her, using that same sonnet. "Gil..."

He smiled. "But, now … I think we'd both agree that this picture should be displayed."

"Yeah, I agree, but …"

"But, what?"

Sara simultaneously frowned and smiled. "On the fridge?"

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Gil. You framed a picture of your _dog_, but you put a picture of us on the fridge?"

"I look at the fridge far more often than I look at the picture of Hank," he said.

Sara smiled, unable to combat his logic. "Fair enough. The fridge is perfect." She slid the picture back under its magnet, then crossed to kiss him. "I love you."

He smiled and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for another kiss. "I love you, too."


	92. Submission

A/N: I'm sure you're going to want to kill me for this, but I'm breaking this episode into two chapters. I had planned to do it as one, but once I realized how long it was getting, I decided two chapters might work better. So, this is part one … and part two will be posted by next weekend. I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are taken from episode 723, "The Good, the Bad and the Dominatrix."

* * *

_Submission_

Grissom walked through the halls of the lab, thinking that it promised to be an easy shift. Catherine was already in the field, having been called to an attempted homicide by Brass. Warrick and Nick had followed Vartann to a drive-by shooting. Greg was working on identifying Ernie Dell's foster children, and Sara was finishing paperwork on her last open investigation.

Greg, buried under a mountain of files, didn't even look up when Grissom walked into the break room. His work ethic was both admirable and necessary – they all felt immense pressure to identify the serial killer.

"How're you doing?" Grissom asked.

"These files are out of control," Greg said, leaning back in his chair, but not moving his hand from the open file in front of him. "Typos, white out, names missing, whole sections missing …" He let the file fall closed in frustration.

"Twenty years ago, the county was still using typewriters," Grissom said. "Did you find anything?"

"Ernie Dell's foster child," he said, picking up a report. "Donna Cataloni. Lived with the Dells for a year. Her CASA report came with a supplemental." He handed a sheet of the report to Grissom. "They forgot to black out her social security number. We can use that to track her down, unless the adoptives changed it."

"Good. I'll run it," Grissom said. "I have to take you off this. Days is down to four CSIs. You're on loan out."

Greg shook his head in disbelief, leaning back in his chair. "Why can't days keep anybody?"

"Money … stress … Ecklie, maybe. Just help them with their backlog."

Grissom turned to leave, nearly running into Sara.

"Hey, Griss, Catherine just called me," she said. "She needs me at her scene."

"Okay," Grissom agreed.

Greg frowned. "Sara gets to work with Catherine, and I get loaned to days? So unfair!"

"You're being loaned to days?" Sara grimaced. "Enjoy. Avoid Ecklie."

Grissom closed his eyes and shook his head. "Be nice to Ecklie, Greg. We do not need him thinking that our team has an attitude problem."

Sara and Greg exchanged a look and laughed.

"Okay, Dad," Greg said, standing up. "I'll be nice. Have fun with Catherine, Sara."

"I will. I'll see you guys later."

"Good luck," Grissom said.

Sara smiled as she turned to leave and nearly ran into a woman from janitorial who was on her way into the break room to empty the trash. The woman jumped back in surprise.

"I'm sorry!" Sara exclaimed. "I didn't see you."

"It's okay," the woman said without really making eye contact.

"Are you new?" Sara asked.

"Sort of."

Thinking that this woman's social skills were even worse than hers, Sara decided to give it one last try. "What's your name?"

"Natalie."

"Natalie," Sara repeated. "I'm Sara. It's nice to meet you. Welcome to the lab."

"Thank you."

Sara glanced at Greg and Grissom, who were trying, rather unsuccessfully, to hide their amused smiles.

"Bye, Sara," Greg said, gathering up the files he had been scouring.

"Bye," she said, shaking her head.

Grissom changed his direction and joined Sara on her path to the parking lot. She gave him a slight smile.

"Going to make fun of me?"

"Why? For trying to draw out someone who obviously just wanted you to leave her alone?"

Sara sighed. "I feel bad," she said. "I nearly knocked her over, and she's new, so she probably doesn't know anyone –"

"Sara," Grissom interrupted. "It was very nice of you to try to make friends."

She smiled. "Thanks for saying that."

"You're welcome," he said, returning her smile. "Now, go to your scene. And, tell Catherine not to make you work too much overtime. You're close to your limit."

"Aye aye, Captain."

He shook his head, smiling slightly. "I'll see you when I see you."

Sara gave him a bright smile. "I'll see you when I see you."

* * *

Sara walked into the Old West theme park, looking around with curious eyes. In all her years in Vegas, she had not gone to the park; seeing it now was a bit of a surprise. It truly did look like a town from the Wild West.

"Hey, sunshine."

Sara smiled at Brass as he approached her. "Hey to you," she said. "What's our situation? Where's Catherine?"

"Catherine is processing the scene," Brass replied. "I'll take you there, but I wanted to talk to you first."

Sara frowned slightly. "Okay."

"Did Catherine give you any of the details of the case when she called you?"

"No," Sara replied. "She just said it was an attempted homicide, and to meet her here. Why? What do I need to know?" Her eyes lit up. "Is it another miniature case?"

"No," Brass said. "It's … Sara, the vic is Lady Heather."

Sara's eyes widened as she flinched slightly. "Lady Heather? What happened? Why was she here?"

"I'll work on the 'why she was here' part after I'm allowed to interview her," Brass replied. "As for what happened … that's your job."

"Right," Sara said. She swallowed. "Has anyone called Grissom?"

"I haven't," Brass said a bit forcefully. "And, I won't. If he wants to be involved in Heather's life, that's his business, but I'm not going to help him get there. She can call him if she wants to talk to him."

"Jim …" Sara took a deep breath. She knew what he was doing, and she loved him for it, but she needed him to know how unnecessary it was. "I know that he has a past with her. I also know that he'd never do anything to hurt me. I know that … I trust him."

"Good," Brass said. "You should trust him. All the same … I don't want to put him into contact with her if it can be avoided. With you and Catherine working the case, I think that it certainly can be avoided."

Sara's eyes softened. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I really don't think it's necessary to do all you're doing, but … thanks."

Brass smiled and winked at her. "I've got your back, doll. Come on. Let's get you inside before Catherine thinks you got lost on the way here."

Sara smiled back and followed him to the saloon. Brass swung the doors open to reveal Catherine processing the player piano.

"Look who I found," he said.

"Hi, Sara," Catherine said with a smile. "Welcome to my hell."

Sara laughed. "You don't like the Wild, Wild West?"

"I don't like anything that involves this much dirt and sawdust this close to food and beverages," she replied. "Don't we have health codes against this?"

"Well, I'm sure the park has to be true to its time period," Sara replied.

"I'll take hygiene over authenticity," Catherine said.

"I'm with you on that," Sara said. "I didn't say I wanted to eat here."

"Yeah, I'll leave you ladies to it," Brass said, chuckling at their exchange. "I need to see what's keeping the owner. He should be here by now."

"Bye, Jim," Catherine said a he left the building.

"Well, tell me what you know," Sara said, putting down her kit.

"The night guard found Lady Heather unconscious here," Catherine said, pointing to a spot on the floor that was nearly sawdust-free. "When Brass and I got here, the piano was playing, so, theoretically, the suspect's prints could be on it. Everything else is as we found it – broken bottles, overturned chairs, disturbed dust …"

Sara laughed. "I'll be sure to question the dust about what it saw."

"Good place to start."

Sara cleared her throat. "Why was Lady Heather here?"

"Well, Brass will interview her once the hospital staff allows it, but she was dressed in a period costume. My best guess is that she was here to play out someone's fantasy."

Sara's eyes widened. "Okay. What do you need me to do?"

"Want to process the bar?"

"Love to."

Sara went to the bar, which was littered with fragments of a broken whiskey bottle. She took out her camera to take pictures of it.

"This is a family theme park," she commented. "I'm assuming that they don't actually serve alcohol here. They must have brought their own."

Catherine, halfway under the piano as she dusted it with printing powder, remained silent.

Sara picked up a piece of the bottle and flipped it over to read the label. "Single malt. Thirty years old."

"S and M is a rich man's sport," Catherine said as she lifted prints. "Kind of like hockey – a lot of equipment."

Sara bagged with bottle while Catherine left the piano alone and began working on a length of rope that was on the floor.

"How much do you think a night like this would cost?" Sara asked.

"Heather told me five years ago she was clearing twenty grand a week," Catherine said.

Sara's mouth dropped open. She turned to look at Catherine.

"And, that was _before_ Lady Heather dot com," Catherine added.

Sara turned back around to seal her evidence bag. "What is she like?" she asked, trying desperately to sound off-hand.

"Beautiful," Catherine said at once. "Smart. Intense. Charming." She put down the rope she had been in the process of bagging. Finally, _finally_, someone was curious about her thoughts on the subject. She had been trying to get Brass to discuss Grissom and Lady Heather for years, but had been unsuccessful. She hadn't expected Sara to be the one to show interest, but if she wanted to know …

"The only woman I've ever seen rattle Grissom," Catherine continued. "I mean … he kind of liked that forensic anthropologist. Terri Miller? Remember her?"

"Yeah," Sara said weakly. She had been curious about Lady Heather, and Catherine was always a good source of gossip. She just had not expected quite so … _much_.

"But … she wasn't enough of a challenge for him," Catherine continued, really hitting her stride. "Heather, on the other hand … uninhibited, _and_ can beat him at mental chess? They had chemistry … and, he's a scientist." She stepped closer to Sara, wanting to keep her next thoughts as private as possible. "I have no proof, and I know he'd never tell me, but I'm _certain_ they spent the night together."

Sara had been on the verge of taking a picture of the random items under the bar, but found herself slowly lowering her camera. She truly didn't want to hear any more.

"Wonder which one wore the chaps?" Catherine asked.

Sara needed this conversation to end. "Lots of …" she paused to clear her throat, "coins and toothpicks. They don't sweep under here."

Sara's diversion tactic failed miserably. Knowing that her friend had, at one time, harbored feelings for Grissom, Catherine wanted to make it clear that it was for the best that nothing had happened between them. She certainly would have supported a romantic relationship between them – Sara was one of the few women she thought was good enough for her best friend of so many years – but, if Grissom wasn't open to it, it was better that Sara knew that it could have gone so very wrong.

"I mean, more power to him, really, to find somebody _outside_ of work, 'cause … start fishing from the company pier, and … _asking_ for trouble."

Sara picked up a shot class from the floor. "I've got a shot glass," she said in a last-ditch effort to bring Catherine's attention back to work. "Looks like there's lipstick around the rim."

"My fantasy does not include costumes," Catherine said, finally winding up her doctoral dissertation on Lady Heather and Grissom. "Or pain. And, _certainly_ not _sawdust_." She looked around in disgust and beat some of the offensive dust off her pants. "You?"

A horrified look crossed Sara's face. Catherine laughed.

"I had a feeling you wouldn't be into this sort of thing, either."

"No," Sara said, standing up with her shot glass in hand. "No, definitely not."

Catherine watched as Sara bagged her evidence. "You've never met Lady Heather? Never worked one of the cases that involved her?"

"No," Sara said shortly.

"Odd. I thought that everyone had –"

"Okay, ladies," Brass said as he walked into the room, "the hospital just called. Lady Heather is on her way to a full recovery, and, more importantly, is ready for an interview, and for one of you to collect evidence. Any volunteers?"

"You go, Sara," Catherine said. She gave her a wink. "Let me know what you think of her."

Sara swallowed and nodded. "Okay."

"And, Sara –"

"Yes, Catherine, I'll call you, when I'm done," Sara promised as she put away her things.

Catherine smiled. "I love it when I don't even have to ask."

"Do you want to ride with me?" Brass asked.

"No, I'll drive myself," Sara said. "I'll need to go back to the lab when I'm done, so it doesn't make sense for me to drive back here for my car."

"Fine by me," Brass said. "I'll meet you there."

"Bye, Brass," Catherine said as he took his leave.

Brass waved as he walked out of the saloon.

"Anything else I you need me to do before I go?" Sara asked.

"No, I think I've got it for now," Catherine said. "If I get stuck, I'll call you to come back here instead of going straight to the lab."

"Okay," Sara said, picking up her things. "I'll see you later."

"Bye."

Sara had never been so glad to leave a building. As soon as she got outside, she began to take deep breaths of the cool night air.

"You asked for it," she whispered to herself. "Don't you know that curiosity killed the cat?"

She shook her head and started toward her car. She had the ride to the hospital to distance herself again – to remember that, for now, Lady Heather was a _victim_, not Grissom's former lover.

* * *

Sara walked through the doors of Desert Palm Hospital and into the reception area. She smiled at the woman sitting at the information desk as she approached.

"Hi," Sara said, holding up her identification. "I'm Sara Sidle; I'm with the Crime Lab. I'm here to collect evidence from the victim of an attempted homicide."

"Hello," the woman replied. "Patient's name, please?"

"Heather Kessler."

The woman nodded as she scanned a computer screen. "Room 526."

"Thank you," Sara said.

She left the reception area and started for Heather's room without asking for further directions. She wondered in a vague sort of way if it was normal for a person who wasn't in the medical profession to know a hospital as well as she did.

She reached Heather's floor and stopped at the nurses' station.

"Hi," the nurse standing at the station said with a smile. "Can I help you?"

"Hi," Sara said, holding up her ID again. "I'm with the Crime Lab; my name is Sara Sidle. I –"

"You're here for Heather Kessler, aren't you?" the woman asked before Sara could continue.

"Yes," Sara said.

"Captain Brass is in with her right now. I'm sure he won't mind if you join them."

"I'm sure he won't," she agreed. "I'll just need to get her SAE kit from you, and I'll be on my way."

The woman shook her head, her eyes troubled. "She refused," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Sara frowned. Victims rarely refused SAE kits. The case was getting more confusing by the moment. "Okay," she said. "I'll just go talk to her, then."

"Go right ahead. Her room is down that hall."

"Thank you."

Sara followed the hall the nurse indicated; Heather's room was toward the end of it. She reached the room and took a deep breath. This was it. This was the moment when she would get to meet Grissom's former lover. The woman Catherine felt was his intellectual equal. The woman Catherine thought that he – Sara shook her head forcefully.

"This is not the time," she whispered. "You have a job to do. _Do it_."

She knocked on the door, then opened it. She was immediately struck by the tension in the room. Brass and Heather were not talking; Brass was noting something she had said on his notepad. But, it was clear that their conversation had not been a pleasant one.

_Perfect_, was Sara's only thought.

"Hi," she said as she walked fully into the room. "I'm with the Crime Lab. Sara Sidle." She said her name as quickly as possible; she found herself almost reluctant to give it. For some reason, she would rather Heather not know who she was.

"I'm here to collect your clothes and trace evidence from your body," she continued, slowly relaxing as she began to work.

"Can I say no?" Heather asked.

Sara stopped lifting her camera from her kit and looked at Heather in surprise. "Why would you want to?" She paused and looked at Brass. "Did the nurse forget to collect an SAE kit?" Better to blame it on the medical professionals than to ask Heather straight out why she'd refuse something like that.

Brass shook his head, clearly annoyed.

"Not necessary," Heather said.

"You don't want help?" Brass asked, his tone bordering on angry. "That's okay by me. Just don't waste my time. I've got a lost of cases on my desk that need my attention. So, when you come out of your _haze_, give me a call."

With that, Brass left. Sara knew his feelings toward Heather, but was still a bit surprised by how harsh he was being with a woman who had nearly been killed.

Heather watched as Brass walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Once he was gone, she looked at Sara; she seemed to feel an explanation was in order.

"I don't respond well to men who judge me based solely on my profession."

"I get that a lot, too," Sara said with a slight smile. "Law enforcement."

Heather's lips twitched into something of a smile. She didn't quite trust Sara, but that she appreciated her overture.

Sara studied Heather, noting the bruises on her neck. "May I move your hair?" she asked.

Heather nodded. Sara brushed her hair away from her neck and began photographing the bruises. Heather closed her eyes against the flash of the camera.

"These look like rope marks on your neck," Sara said.

Heather opened her eyes when Sara spoke to her, but didn't confirm or deny her theory. She looked past Sara, focusing instead on the door.

Sara was so intent upon taking photos that she didn't notice the change that came over Heather's face. She did, however, notice that she sat up straighter. But, it was what she said that captured Sara's attention; the word that crossed her lips as the door opened …

"_Grissom_."

Sara turned, lowering her camera. Grissom was indeed in the doorway, holding the door open as he stood half inside and half outside the room. The look on his face was so panicked that it was almost comical. He clearly didn't know what to do or what to say. Sara knew that someone had to say something, to make this awkward situation okay again …

"I'll be done in a minute."

Grissom nodded and left the room, letting the door fall closed behind him. He stepped into the hallway and took a deep breath.

He had never felt so many things at once before. So many emotions coursed through him that it would have been impossible to identify them all, or, to be honest, any one of them. All he could see was the look on Sara's face when he had appeared in the door. She hadn't seemed angry … but, she hadn't seemed all that pleased, either.

He finally managed to convince himself to walk again, and made his way to a row of chairs a few steps down the hall. He sat down and waited for Sara to come out of the room.

As promised, Sara finished her job quickly. She stepped into the hallway and walked straight to Grissom.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"Catherine called me," he replied. "Sara, I –"

"She's your friend," Sara said, cutting him off. "She's been through a terrible ordeal. You want to support her. I understand."

"You're sure you don't … mind?"

Sara smiled. "Gil. We've been over this before. I'm not the jealous time. I know who you come home to every night. It's not a big deal."

Grissom released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I expected to see Catherine here."

Sara shrugged. "She wanted me to come. She thought it was time that I met the legend."

Grissom started to frown, but stopped himself. _He_ was the reason Sara had never met Lady Heather. He had made sure she had nothing to do with the last case that involved her. Once Zoe had been identified, he had taken Sara off the case.

Sara looked at Grissom, watching his inner struggle with … something … play out across his face. Part of her wanted to ask what he was thinking, but she held back.

"How … is she?" he asked at last.

"Reluctant to deal with us," Sara replied. "She didn't want me to collect trace or her clothes. I'm not entirely positive Brass did me any favors, though – she didn't like his attitude toward her profession."

"Yeah, he's never been a fan of her."

"I know." She paused and shifted her kit from one hand to the other. "Go talk to her, Griss. Maybe you'll be able to figure out what's going on with her."

"I'm not on the case," he said at once. "I can't be. You know that."

"Yeah, but, maybe she just needs to talk. Maybe she needs a friend." She shrugged again. "You don't have to tell us anything she says."

"Okay," Grissom said. "I'll see you at the lab?"

"I'm headed there now."

Grissom nodded and walked past her to Heather's room. Sara watched him go down the hall, and, looking through the windows, into the room. He pulled a chair close to Heather's bed and sat down to speak with her.

Shaking her head slightly, Sara turned in the opposite direction to leave the hospital.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Grissom asked.

"As expected," Heather replied, her voice raspy. "Why are you here, Grissom?"

He frowned. "I heard you were hurt. I wanted to see you."

"No, I mean …" She paused and drew a deep breath. "Are you here in a professional capacity?"

"Does it make a difference?"

"Maybe not to you." She paused again. "I feel exposed," she confessed. "The last time you saw me …"

"You had just lost your daughter," Grissom said.

"That's not all I lost that night," Heather said.

Grissom thought back, remembering the utter rage Heather had shown while beating the man who had killed her Zoe. Although not a parent, he had certainly seen plenty of parents after the loss of a child. He was sure that most of them, if granted access to those who had murdered their children and Heather's particular skill set would have reacted he same way.

"If a client did this," he began, attempting to steer the conversation away from their past and to the present, "and left you to die … Why are you protecting him?"

"I'm not," Heather replied.

"Tell me the truth," Grissom said.

Heather's breathing became labored and her eyes closed. Grissom reached for her hand, trying to keep her focused.

"Did they check your glucose level when you came in?" he asked urgently.

Heather was beyond responding.

"Heather?" Grissom asked, pressing the call button for a nurse.

A nurse came into the room almost immediately.

"She's diabetic; I think she's going into shock," he said.

"Patient never told us," the nurse said, shoving Grissom aside to help Heather.

A doctor came into the room and went into action with the nurse.

"Sir, you're going to have to wait outside," he said.

Grissom nodded silently and returned to the hallway. He stood outside Heather's room and watched as the medical team worked on her.

The doctor walked out of Heather's room and looked at Grissom. "She's going to be fine," he said.

Grissom exhaled. "Was she going into diabetic shock?"

The doctor nodded. "I wish she had said something earlier. We could have prevented the hypoglycemia and the shock."

"May I see her?"

"Let her rest for tonight. If you'd like, you're welcome to come back tomorrow."

Grissom nodded. "I'll do that."

* * *

When Grissom arrived back at the lab, Sara was in the layout room working on the evidence she had collected at the hospital. Part of him wanted to ask her what she had found, but he stopped himself. He knew there was no way she'd have anything definite to report within such a short span of time.

He walked past the layout room without going in, and continued on to his office. He'd work on his miniature until he was needed.

* * *

When shift ended, Sara was still in the layout room. Grissom popped his head in on his way out the door.

"You leaving?" he asked.

"Not just yet," she replied, barely lifting her head from the photos she was studying. "I want to finish this first." She finally did look up and gave him a smile. "I won't be too much longer."

Grissom returned her smile and stepped fully into the room. "I'll make you breakfast."

"I'll be home within two hours."

* * *

When Sara walked into the house, she was greeted by an exuberant dog and a busy boyfriend. She patted Hank's head and kissed Grissom's lips.

"This looks great," she said, indicating the spread he was producing for breakfast.

"I went a little overboard," he confessed, flushing slightly. "You gave me too much time to work on it."

Sara grinned. "I may have to work later than you more often."

"I don't think I like that idea," Grissom replied. "I don't see enough of you outside of work as it is."

Sara giggled. "Griss. When do you _not_ see me outside of work?"

"It's never enough." He touched her cheek. "Come on. Let's eat."

They sat down at the table and began eating in silence. Sara was the one to break it, clearing her throat before asking the question that had been burning in her mind for hours.

"How was your visit with Heather?"

"Short."

Sara raised an eyebrow.

"She never told the hospital staff that she's diabetic," he said. "Because they weren't monitoring her glucose levels, she had some issues with hypoglycemia and shock when I was there."

Sara eyes widened. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's going to be fine."

"Well, that's good."

Grissom nodded. "I just don't get why she didn't tell them."

"Well, someone had just tried to kill her," Sara said. "Chances are that blood sugar wasn't the first thing on her mind when she got to the ER."

"Yeah, but … Carl's diabetic."

Sara nodded, remembering her former supervisor's medical issues. "He always has jellybeans in his kit," she said.

"Right," Grissom agreed. "And, he wears a medic alert bracelet that says he has type 1 diabetes just in case something happens and he isn't able to tell anyone about his condition."

Sara nodded again.

"Heather has a bracelet, too," Grissom continued. "Why wasn't she wearing it?"

Sara tilted her head to the side as she considered the question. "Maybe … Well, assuming Catherine's right and she was playing out a fantasy for someone, maybe the bracelet would have taken away from the period costume too much."

"Maybe," Grissom agreed, looking far from convinced. "I just … I think that something doesn't seem quite right."

"Well, she was nearly killed," Sara said. "I'd say that falls under most people's 'not quite right' category."

"That's not what I mean," Grissom said, refusing to rise to her teasing. "I just don't understand …"

"That's why Catherine and I are investigating," Sara said. "If we already had all the answers, the case would be closed." She looked straight into his eyes. "We'll solve this for her, Gil. We'll put together all the pieces until they make sense."

"I know you will," Grissom said. "There's no one I'd rather have on this case than you and Catherine."


	93. Trust

A/N: I'd just like to let you know that I have upped the rating to M on this story. It's really just for language. Both Sara and Grissom use some offensive language in this chapter, so, if that's going to bother you, feel free to skip it. I really greatly doubt that I'll ever go down that road with them again, but there were two moments that merited it in this one. I'm sorry if it offends you, but, you have been warned.

And, now, I present the (exceptionally long) conclusion to the previous chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 723, "The Good, the Bad and the Dominatrix."

* * *

_Trust_

"Sara!"

"Hey, Mandy," Sara said, stopping her progress down the hall and walking into the print lab. "What's up?"

"I have results for you," she replied, handing over a stack of reports. "You and Catherine are done with your scene, right? No more prints for me?"

Sara laughed. "What, you didn't enjoy running them all?"

"I didn't enjoy the sheer number of them you two threw at me at once," Mandy said. "But, I live to serve."

Sara laughed again. "Right. So, anything interesting?"

"Yes. All your prints came back to the vic."

"You're serious?" Sara asked, flipping through the pages Mandy had given her. "They're _all_ Heather's prints?"

"Sorry."

"No, don't be sorry. It's not your fault we've got a careful would-be murderer." Sara sighed. "Well, I'd better get started on our other evidence, then."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

Sara left Mandy and, taking out all the evidence she and Catherine had collected, got to work. Barring any new cases that would require her attention, she had a quiet night ahead of her.

Catherine was the first to interrupt her. She came in while Sara was analyzing photos of Heather's wounds.

"Hey," she said. "Brass and I are going back to the park. We're going to interview Vernon Porter, the night watchman, again."

"Okay," Sara replied. "Is he a suspect?"

"No, I don't think so," Catherine said. "He could be a witness, though. We want to see if he saw anything other than what he initially reported to Brass."

"Have fun," Sara said. "I'll be here if you need me."

"I'll call you," Catherine promised.

Catherine left, and Sara finished working on her photos. Putting them away, she took out hair samples and put them under the microscope. She had barely begun working on them when Grissom stepped into the room.

"Any results on Heather Kessler?" he asked.

Sara wanted to laugh at his use of her full name. As if they knew another Heather. "So far, all the prints come back to her," she said. "Player piano, whiskey bottle, shot glass. There was some lipstick around the rim; I haven't had a chance to test it." She held up the bagged shot glass for him to see. "You think it's her shade?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow and Sara's serious façade crumbled. She smirked and put the glass back on the table.

"Heather's not supposed to drink because of her diabetes," Grissom said, looking at the table as he tried to make sense of the evidence. "Which could explain the hypoglycemia and shock …"

Sara nodded. "Catherine found a pair of men's underwear in the toilet. Any evidence on them would have been washed away. But, she also found seminal fluid on a tissue on the floor nearby."

"She was sexually assaulted?" Grissom asked in shock.

"She refused an SAE kit, so we'll never know. There were no defensive wounds, no skin or rope fibers under her nails. At first blush, I figured he might have ambushed her, except I noted _three_ separate strangulation attempts on her neck." She pulled out the photos she had been studying earlier and handed one to Grissom. "She had time to fight back," she concluded.

"This makes no sense," Grissom said, staring at the photo. "She's very strong, and tough as nails." He looked up at Sara, his eyes pained. "Why didn't she fight?"

Sara shook her head. "A fantasy that went too far?" she suggested.

"The whole point of what she does is that the submissive holds the power," Grissom said. "Even if she was in a submissive role, she should have been able to say stop."

"It's tough to say anything when you have a rope wrapped around your neck," Sara said.

"But, there was likely time between attempts …" Grissom shook his head and put the photo on the table. "Thanks, Sara."

"Just doing my job."

* * *

Grissom stared at the miniature on his desk without really seeing it. His thoughts were with Heather. What bizarre circumstances would have led her to allow someone to nearly kill her? Something wasn't right …

He had to talk to her. He left his office, pulling his keys from his pocket as he walked to the parking structure.

* * *

Grissom's law enforcement status granted him certain privileges. One of them was the ability to disregard hospital visiting hours. He only needed to flash his identification to have nurses and security personnel standing aside, allowing him access to any patient he needed to see.

He moved down the halls of Desert Palm quickly, intent upon reaching his destination. When he arrived at Heather's room, he was surprised to find it empty.

He looked around for a moment, searching for signs that she would be back soon. Finding none, he returned to the nurses' station.

"Excuse me," he said, holding up his lab ID.

The nurse gave him a smile. "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for Heather Kessler, but she doesn't seem to be in her room."

The nurse's expression darkened. "Ms. Kessler checked herself out this afternoon," she said. "Her doctors all wanted her to stay for at least another day, but she refused."

Grissom's eyes widened. "She left AMA?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

The woman nodded and went back to work.

Grissom slowly walked away from her, back toward the parking lot and his car. He could hardly believe that Heather had left the hospital against her doctor's advice. Was she _trying_ to get herself killed?

Grissom shook his head. None of the evidence made any sense to him. He needed to find her – to force her to help him put it all together.

* * *

Grissom parked his car and looked up at the imposing house. He hesitated only a moment before climbing out of the car and walking up to the front door.

She answered his knock quickly, dressed in the period costume that Catherine and Sara had noted she had been wearing the night before. She sighed at the sight of him standing on her porch.

"Grissom, why are you here?"

"I want to talk to you," he replied. "I went to the hospital first, but they said you had left against medical advice."

"I just need time to recover. There's nothing they can do for me now. I can rest at home as easily as I can rest there, and I'm far more comfortable in my own bed."

It was a logical argument, but something still didn't seem right to Grissom. "Heather, please, may I come in? I want to talk to you."

She sighed again and opened the door wider. "Come in."

"Thank you."

She closed the door and led him into the house. Grissom frowned at the sight of boxes piled up everywhere.

"Are you moving?"

Heather hesitated. "It was time to do some cleaning. Some rearranging of my life."

Grissom nodded slowly.

"Would you like some tea?"

"That would be nice," Grissom replied.

Heather led him to the kitchen. "Have a seat."

Grissom sat down at the table and watched as she filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove. Once it had started to heat, she joined him, looking at him closely.

"The last time I saw you, you told me that you were involved with someone," she said.

"That's right," Grissom said, a bit surprised by her comment.

"You didn't tell me her name."

"No."

"You're involved with Sara, aren't you? The CSI who came to the hospital to collect evidence from me."

Grissom's eyes widened. "Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't have to. Neither do you. It's quite obvious. The look on your face when you came into the room and saw her there … the way you both stood when you were talking in the hallway … the way she watched you come back into the room …" She smiled a small smile. "How long have you been involved?"

Grissom smiled slightly. "I can't remember a time when we _weren't_ involved."

"Does she know you're here right now?"

"No."

"Will she mind?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't seem very sure."

"I'm very sure that I didn't come here to discuss my personal life."

Heather leaned back in her chair. "Why _are_ you here, Grissom?"

"I want to help you," he said. "Nothing about your case makes any sense. The only truth I can find in the evidence is that you're in pain. And, I want to help you make it go away."

Heather's eyes softened. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I'm your friend, Heather. I want to help you."

She looked away from Grissom, out the window. "You've helped me in the past," she said, almost to herself. She looked at him again. "You found the man who killed my daughter," she said slowly. "You found him, and you made sure he paid for his crimes. I wanted to do that so badly …"

"I think you did," Grissom said.

Heather shook her head. "I should have trusted you. You told me to, but I couldn't. Not then."

"And, now?"

She exhaled slowly. "I must admit, it's a bit hard for me to trust anyone."

"You can trust me, Heather," Grissom said softly. "You know that. I'm not part of the investigation. Sara and Catherine are. Anything you say to me can just be a conversation between two friends. Please. Tell me what happened."

She looked at him for a long moment. "You're the investigator. You tell me what happened."

"Part of investigating is interviewing victims and witnesses," he said.

Her eyes narrowed. "I thought it wasn't your case?"

"It's not," he conceded. "You asked me at the hospital if I was visiting in an official capacity. Heather, I'm not. I'm here because I'm your friend, and, right now, I think you need a friend."

"A friend," she repeated in a whisper.

"Yes," he said. "Why were you at the theme park in the middle of the night? Was it a fantasy? Were you indulging someone's desire to be a bartender at a saloon, or …?"

She smiled slightly. "You know that my business has very little to do with fantasy."

"No, of course not," Grissom agreed. "It's about very real roles in relationships. About domination and submission."

"That's right," Heather said. "It's about realizing that in submitting to another's will, you gain so much.

Grissom nodded, encouraging her to continue.

Heather clasped her hands as she leaned forward. "When the submissive accepts they're in control, that's when they embrace their true power; they can say 'stop.' They can choose to either end the pain or continue enduring it. But … higher consciousness doesn't negate our animal instinct to survive."

Grissom looked at her, forcing himself to maintain eye contact, not to allow his gaze to travel to her throat. He had seen Sara's photos. He knew how many marks the ropes had left on her skin.

A master at speaking in riddles and metaphors could easily recognize when someone was doing the same to him. He just didn't want to think of all that her words symbolized, of all that she was trying to tell him without saying it literally.

The idea was too ghastly to consider.

* * *

Brass and Catherine arrived at the Wild West theme park and went to the front gate. Catherine glanced at Brass.

"Have you thought about how we're going to get in?"

"Well, we could stand here and scream until Porter comes to let us in."

Catherine shook her head as they reached the gate. She noticed the open padlock and swung the latch open. "Gate's unlocked again."

"Well, it's ten after. It's probably unlocked 'cause he's doing his rounds."

"Okay," Catherine said as they walked into the park.

"Ah…a wild west party," Brass said, going back to the story Lady Heather had given him for being in the park so late at night.

"Okay, come on, Jim, give it up," Catherine said. "I know you know something about Grissom and Lady Heather."

"I know something _a lot_ juicier than Grissom and Lady Hea-" Brass stopped abruptly as his flashlight beam fell upon the prone form of Vernon Porter lying on the ground.

"God," Catherine murmured as they both moved closer, Brass drawing his weapon. She crouched down to feel for a pulse that wasn't there. "Oh, yeah, he's dead."

"Yeah, he took one in the back," Brass said, looking at the blood that had seeped through his shirt and vest.

"Who shot the sheriff?" Catherine asked.

Brass shook his head. "I'm going to call some guys in to secure the entire area. You're armed, right?"

"Yeah," Catherine said.

"Okay. I'm going to look around and make sure we're alone."

Catherine nodded. "I'm going to call this in, and get Sara here to help me."

* * *

Sara and David, along with an army of police officers, arrived to help with the scene. While Sara began processing the surrounding buildings, Catherine and Brass stayed with David and the body. Their most interesting find was the night watchman's cell phone – they noted that he had called Heather Kessler shortly before dying.

No longer simply a victim, Heather had become a suspect.

* * *

Grissom followed Heather into the living room. She sat down, but he remained standing, noticing the pictures on the mantle. The first was one of Heather with Zoe, her daughter; Grissom remembered that Zoe had kept a copy of the same picture in her apartment. Standing next to it was a photo of a man cuddling a toddler. Grissom picked up this second picture, studying its mystery subjects.

"She's all I have left of Zoe," Heather said, watching him stare at the photo.

"This is your granddaughter," Grissom said with dawning understanding. "Did you take this picture?"

"I hired someone to find her," Heather replied.

Grissom frowned slightly.

"I can't give her love," Heather continued, "but, I can give her the freedom to be who she wants to be."

"Heather –?"

Grissom's question died on his lips as a knock sounded on the front door.

"Excuse me," Heather said, standing up to answer the door.

Grissom glanced out the window, surprised to see the sun. When had morning come? How long had he and Heather been talking?

Heather's voice floated back to him. "This isn't a good time."

Grissom frowned. His frown only deepened when he recognized the next voice.

"We have a warrant to search your house," Brass said. "And, you'd better put some sun block on, 'cause we're going downtown."

"My memory isn't any better than it was yesterday. I'm not up to it."

"Then we'll swing by the hospital," Brass persisted. "You can explain to them why you checked yourself out early against doctor's orders."

The next voice he heard made Grissom cringe. The last thing he needed …

"We're investigating a homicide," Catherine said.

"I don't understand."

"Where were you last night?" Brass asked.

"You may come in."

Grissom heard them all walk into the house and the door close.

"I was here," Heather said, her voice still in the foyer.

"Can anyone verify that?" Brass asked. "Preferably someone not on the payroll."

Heather raised her voice to call Grissom's attention. "Captain Brass would like to know where I was last night."

Grissom stepped into view as Brass and Catherine turned to see who could confirm her alibi. "She was here," he said simply. "With me."

The expressions on their faces were almost comical. Catherine looked a cross between shocked and smug. Brass's expression was something between shock at the situation, amusement at the look on Catherine's face and desire to cause Grissom bodily harm.

Brass recovered first. "Okay," he said, taking the tone he had used with them once upon a time when he had been their supervisor. "Heather, we're going downtown. Catherine, Gil, back to the lab."

"I was going to search the house," Catherine said.

"We'll leave it for later," Brass said. He looked at Heather. "We've got plenty of time, and I'm sure Lady Heather has nothing to hide."

"Of course not," she said. "May I change before we go?"

"Be my guest."

Heather disappeared up the stairs. Grissom took a last sip of his tea and set the cup on the nearby coffee table. He looked at Catherine and Brass, who were both staring at him.

"What?"

Catherine shook her head. She looked at Grissom in shock again, then turned to Brass. "I'll see you at the lab," she muttered.

Once the door had closed behind her, Brass rounded on Grissom.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"She's a _murder_ suspect?" Grissom asked in shock. "Since when? I thought she was a _victim_! What have I missed?"

"You're thinking about the investigation?" Brass asked in shock. "Is that what you think I'm upset about? That you could have compromised an investigation?"

Grissom frowned. "It's not what you're upset about?"

"Look, Gil, I know you're no expert when it comes to reading women's minds, but you have to know how this is going to look to Sara."

Grissom's frown deepened. "Sara?"

"Yeah, Sara. Your girlfriend. The woman who lives in your house with you. Remember her?"

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Yes, I have a few fairly good memories of her."

"Well, maybe you should have called up one or two of them before you decided to stay here all night long."

Grissom looked at him in utter bewilderment.

"Oh, this is worse than I thought," Brass sighed. "She doesn't have any idea that you were here, does she?"

"No," Grissom said slowly.

"You'd better call her on your way back to the lab. You definitely want her to find out where you've been from _you_, not from lab gossip."

"Jim … nothing happened. She just …"

Brass held up his hand. "You don't need to convince me. You need to convince Sara. And, you'd better start working on that sooner rather than later."

* * *

"So, when do you leave?"

"Thursday morning," Greg said. "I'll be back on Monday."

"That's not very long," Sara said. "Wouldn't Grissom let you have more time off? It's not every day your grandfather turns 80."

Greg smiled. "A long weekend is about all I can take. Don't talk to Grissom on my behalf – I certainly don't need any favors in that department."

Sara giggled. "You told your mother that's all the time you could get off, didn't you?"

"Yup," Greg replied with a grin. "You'd do the same, I'm sure."

"Maybe," Sara conceded.

"I'll be there for Papa Olaf's birthday party, and that's all Mom really cares about. The extra days are just icing."

"Oh, good, you're both here!"

Sara and Greg looked up from their conversation and breakfast as Catherine burst into the break room.

"What's up, Catherine?" Sara asked. "Did we catch a break in our case?"

"No," Catherine said, waving her hand dismissively. "No, but I've got some _interesting_ news."

"Well, let's hear it," Greg said, grinning in anticipation.

Catherine looked at Sara. "Remember what we were talking about before? About Grissom and Lady Heather?"

"Yes," Sara said slowly, not sure she was going to enjoy this conversation.

"Remember how I said I was sure he had spent the night with her, but I had no proof?"

"Yes," Sara said again. She glanced at Greg, who was watching her reactions carefully.

"Well, I have the proof now."

Sara frowned. "You got Grissom to tell you about spending the night with Lady Heather?"

"Whoa," Greg said. "Cath, you deserve a medal. I didn't think Grissom 'shared' with anyone."

"Wait, no, guys, that's not it," Catherine said, shaking her head. "Jim and I just went to Lady Heather's house to question her in Vernon Porter's death."

"Right," Sara said.

"When we got there, Heather told us she had been at home all night. When Brass asked for someone to confirm it, _Grissom_ walked out of her living room and said that he had been there with her."

Sara felt as though she had been sucker-punched. All the breath left her body; her face turned ghostly white as the blood drained from it. Greg watched her eyes widen to the point of being painful and realized in an instant that Catherine would certainly question Sara's reaction if he didn't distract her.

"Are you _serious_?" he asked. "What happened? What was he doing there?"

"I don't – Jim, hey, did you talk to Grissom at all after I left?" Catherine asked as Brass walked into the room.

Brass looked at Sara, holding her eyes for a moment before answering Catherine's question. "Not really," he said. "I only stayed long enough to chase him out and make sure that one of my guys would bring Heather back to PD for questioning." He turned to look at Sara again. "Has anyone talked to Grissom?"

"No," Sara said, her voice a bit strangled.

"Did he have his phone with him?" Greg asked. "I spent all morning trying to reach him last week and found out that he had dropped his cell in the car and didn't realize it was missing until the next night."

"Good point," Brass said quickly. "I did the same thing once."

"I've – oh, there he – I'll be back," Catherine said, rushing out of the break room to follow the newly-returned Grissom to his office.

As soon as she was gone, both men turned to Sara.

"Sara, it's not how Catherine made it sound," Brass began.

"You know what?" Sara said, standing up, her eyes snapping fire. "Right now, it wouldn't matter if Catherine had told me that Heather was wearing a fucking chastity belt when she got there. It wouldn't make this any better."

"Listen, Sara, let's get out of here," Greg said. "We're on a break; we're both totally free to go. Let's get a drink or –"

"No," Sara said at once, cutting him off. "No, I just … thanks, Greg. Really. I just … I need to finish this case. And, to do that, I need to be here. I just …"

"Sara …"

"Greg, I really appreciate everything you're trying to do, but, I need to be alone right now."

"Okay," he agreed. "Catch up with me later?"

"I will."

Sara walked out of the room without looking back. Brass exhaled and looked at Greg.

"So, you know about them, huh?"

"Yeah," Greg said. "You, too?"

"Yeah." Brass tilted his head to the side. "How did you find out?"

Greg smiled. "Sara, Warrick, Nick and I went out drinking one night," he said. "She was a little tipsy and gave a little too much away during a game of Hot or Not. I had suspected for awhile, but she sort of confirmed it for me that night without saying it outright. Nick and Warrick didn't have a clue what we were talking about, though. I'm sure they don't know. What about you?"

Brass cleared his throat. "McKeen sent me to the airport to pick up someone who was coming into town. I ran into them at baggage claim – they were coming back from 'separate' vacations that they obviously took together." He shook his head with a barely concealed grin. "I think I'm still recovering from what I heard them saying to each other."

Greg laughed then sobered. "Brass … Grissom didn't do anything stupid, did he?"

"No," Brass said. "Well, yes, he did, if by 'stupid' you mean staying at Heather's without telling Sara first. But, if you mean having sex with Heather, then, no, he didn't."

"Good," Greg said, releasing a long breath. "I'd hate to have to kill my boss."

Brass grinned. "And, I'd hate to have to help you hide the body."

* * *

"Gil!" Catherine called.

Grissom stopped his progress down the hall briefly, giving her time to catch up to him. "Catherine."

She fell in step beside him, silently following him into his office.

"You were there all night," she said, closing the door behind her. "Want to explain why?"

He stepped behind his desk and looked at her, but didn't answer her question.

"Look," she said, crossing the room to stand across his desk from him, "I know that you don't go home and cuddle your insects every single night, but why would you go there, knowing that we're in the middle of an investigation? And, now she's a prime suspect with _you_ as her alibi."

"It was a social call; that's all," Grissom said, sitting down behind his desk.

Catherine gave him a look of disbelief. "So, when your personal life gets tangled up in a case, that's off-limits?"

"Yes," Grissom replied.

"Isn't that a little hypocritical?"

"Apparently so."

Catherine leaned over his desk. "You know, I'd slap you, but I think you'd enjoy it too much."

Grissom tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. "Look, I went to Heather's on a hunch," he said. "There's something … not right with her."

Catherine considered his words for a moment. "Well," she said at last, "your timing sucked."

Grissom raised an eyebrow in silent acknowledgement of the truth in her words.

Catherine held his eyes for a moment before glancing down, noticing for the first time the half-completed miniature on his desk. "What's this?" she asked, leaning down for a closer look. Upon recognizing Grissom's office, she looked up at him in shock. "So now you're _building your own_?"

"Yeah," Grissom replied. "Keeps my hands busy."

"Oh, funny," Catherine said, straightening up again. "Very funny."

Grissom gave her a tolerant smile. "I thought it might help me understand the miniature killer. Put me in touch with his contacts. Maybe help us find someone who made components of the miniatures."

"All good points," Catherine said. "But … isn't there a less creepy way to do that?"

Grissom smiled again. "Must you suck the fun out of everything?"

"Apparently so," she said with a slightly mocking tone as she repeated his earlier words.

Grissom sighed, knowing that she was not entirely through with their conversation about Heather. "Catherine … I don't know what else to say."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," she said. She smiled. "I don't know why I'm not celebrating this moment, actually."

"Why would you celebrate it?"

"For once, you made a decision with your heart instead of your head." She smiled again. "I'm proud of you for that. But, next time, don't make that decision about a suspect in the middle of an investigation."

Grissom smiled. "I'll do my best."

Catherine winked at him and left his office, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Sara sat in the locker room, staring into her open locker without really seeing its contents. She could barely see anything at all except the anger that seemed to jump in front of her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so angry … and, she was certain she had never been so angry with Grissom.

"How could you do something like this?" she whispered.

She felt hot, angry tears gathering in her eyes. She blinked rapidly, then swiped at her eyes with an impatient hand. She refused to let herself cry.

"Not now," she whispered. "Not here."

She took several deep breaths, doing her best to calm down.

"There you are," Catherine said as she walked into the locker room. "Do you have a minute? I wanted to look through the evidence from both Heather's and Porter's cases. I have a feeling that we're looking at the same guy for both."

"Yeah," Sara said, clearing her throat as she stood up. "Let's go do it."

Sara and Catherine went to the layout room and began working through the evidence on both cases. They were looking for connections when Wendy walked in with reports in hand.

"Hey," she said. "Semen on the tissue in the bathroom did not come from Vernon Porter."

"Well, the underwear that I pulled from the toilet was a 38 inch waist," Catherine said. "Porter was a 34; he didn't attack Heather."

"But, we know he was there," Sara said.

"One of Heather's clients pays for a kinky, Wild West fantasy only to discover he … had an audience?" Catherine suggested.

"Well, I don't want to derail this, but why go after Porter and not Heather?" Wendy asked.

"'Cause she's not talking," Catherine said. "Her business is based on discretion. Couldn't count on Porter's discretion."

"So," Sara said as Catherine's phone began to ring, "this client goes back to Oakley's the next night and shoots Porter."

"Oh," Catherine said, raising her phone to read the text message. "Mandy got a hit off the revolver and the ammo box. Benjamin Oakley."

"His family owns the place," Sara said. "He had access."

"Yeah, I'm calling Brass," Catherine said, already raising the phone to her ear.

She headed for the door with Wendy as Grissom walked into the layout room. He looked at Catherine questioningly.

"Sara will fill you in," she said as she left. "Hey, Jim!"

Grissom turned from Catherine's retreating form to Sara's stationary one. He leaned his fingertips on the table and looked at her.

"We may have a suspect," she said shortly.

Nothing else. Grissom watched as she silently went back to work, sifting through reports and photos. She had obviously heard about his visit to Heather … and was obviously not pleased about it. An explanation was in order …

"I'm the only one Heather trusts," he said.

"I get it," Sara said, anger and sarcasm crowding any understanding out of her words.

Grissom watched her for a moment, knowing that she needed more. "Sara," he began.

"Yeah?" she said, looking up at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, that would make this better. That would take away the sense of betrayal she felt. That would take away her anger, her fear, her shame …

He stared at her in silence, unable to find any words.

Sara felt disgusted. It was so very _Grissom_. When confronted with an uncomfortable personal situation, he had no idea what to do or what to say.

"It's fine," she said, dropping all the papers and photos in her hands back on the table. "Do what you need to do."

She stalked out of the room, feeling even _more_ disgusted. It was so very _Sara_. When Grissom didn't know what to do or what to say, she let him ignore the situation. She let him off the hook; told him everything was fine … She had done is so many times before, and she _hated_ herself for doing it again.

Catherine met up with her in the hallway. "Brass is bringing Ben Oakley to PD," she said. "Want to come along for the interrogation?"

"No," Sara said. "Catherine, I'm sorry, but I've been here forever. I really just want to go home. Can you wrap this without me?"

"Yeah, sure," Catherine said. "Are you feeling all right? I've never seen you leave a case at this point."

"Not really," Sara admitted. "I'm totally exhausted."

"Yeah," Catherine said. "Go home and rest. I can handle it. I'll pull Greg in if I need help."

Sara exhaled. "Thanks, Cat. I owe you one."

Catherine shook her head. "You've been paying it forward for years. And, look, if you're still not feeling well tomorrow, stay home. I'll tell Grissom."

"I should be fine by then," Sara said.

"Still … don't jeopardize your health. Not for this job."

Sara smiled. "I won't."

"Good girl. I'll see you later."

"See you later."

* * *

Grissom stood still, staring at the evidence that Sara had left on the table. He shook his head slowly, trying to make sense of the situation.

Sara was upset that he had spent the night with Heather. Although nothing had happened, and he was sure that Sara knew that nothing had happened, she was angry. Hurt. He had seen that much in her eyes.

He sighed heavily. He had to make her understand why he had done what he had done. But, first, he needed to help Heather. He needed to save her from herself.

And, he had a feeling that he knew just the thing that would turn her around.

* * *

Sara walked into the cool house, shutting her eyes briefly. Just the simple act of coming home made her feel a little better.

As she tossed her purse and keys onto the table and kicked off her shoes, Hank came running to meet her. Somehow, his affectionate greeting was her undoing; she burst into tears as she knelt down to pet the dog. Hank refrained from his usual action of rolling onto his back for a belly rub; he crowed closer to her, offering her comfort as best he could.

* * *

While Catherine and Brass were getting answers from Ben Oakley – those being that his father had been the one who killed Porter and tried to kill Heather – Grissom was on a completely different mission. His investigation took him to a local park, where Jerome Kessler was playing with his granddaughter.

"Hello," Grissom said as he approached a man he had never met.

"Hello," Jerome replied, pushing Allison on a swing. He frowned slightly. "I'm not trying to be rude, but … do I know you?"

"No," Grissom replied. "My name is Gil Grissom. I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

Jerome's eyes narrowed slightly. "Does this involve my ex-wife? Heather Kessler?"

"Yes, it does."

Jerome sighed and pulled Allison's swing still. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go play over there."

Allison let Jerome pick her up off the swing and carry her to some benches nearby. He put her down on her blanket with some of her toys, then sat down on the bench, arranging Allison's other things next to him.

"Have a seat," he invited.

Grissom sat down. "I've known Heather for several years," he said. "We first met when one of her employees was killed. We've been friends since then."

Jerome frowned. "Wait, I'm confused. Is this official police business?"

"No," Grissom said, shaking his head.

"Did Heather send you?"

"No," Grissom said again. "I'm just a friend of hers."

"Did she tell you about me?"

"Not really."

"We married very young," Jerome began. "It didn't last long. Heather left without telling me she was pregnant. I wasn't aware I had a child until after Zoe was already dead."

Grissom nodded to the blanket where Allison was playing with her stuffed toys. "That's Zoe's daughter, Heather's granddaughter?"

Jerome smiled fondly at the little girl. "Her name is Allison." He paused. "So, why are you here?"

"I'm just trying to understand what's happening to her," Grissom said.

They were interrupted briefly when Allison brought Jerome a flower she had picked. He smiled and thanked her, putting it down on the bench.

"I'm aware that the court has denied her visitation rights," Grissom said, smiling at Allison as she handed him her bottle.

"Wouldn't you?" Jerome asked, taking the bottle from Grissom when Allison toddled back to her blanket.

"I'm not sure," Grissom said.

Jerome looked slightly abashed.

"Has Heather tried to give you any money for Allison?"

"Yes," Jerome said, a bit surprised. "The day before yesterday I got a call from the bank. Heather has set up a very generous trust fund for her. No strings attached. I assumed she sold her house."

"Can you tell me how much?" Grissom asked, realizing that he might be pushing too far.

"Eight hundred forty-three thousand five hundred and eight dollars," Jerome said, obviously still too stunned by Heather's generosity to think twice about mentioning the amount. "I know Heather had closed the business a few months ago, trying to convince the judge she'd be a fit guardian, so … it had to be from the sale."

"I wonder if she calculated the exact amount it would cost to raise a child and put her through college. Especially at Harvard … that's where she sent Zoe."

A pained expression crossed Jerome's face. His daughter – a daughter he had never known – had gone to Harvard.

"But, it wasn't her house that she sold," Grissom continued.

Jerome looked away for a moment, then back again. "You're saying …?"

"I'm saying that Heather charged a man almost a million dollars for a private session," he said. "She was willing – probably more than willing – to let him kill her."

"No," Jerome said quickly. "No, that can't be right. There are so many reasons that can't be right …"

"Such as?"

"First, Heather's a dominatrix, not a submissive. In our entire relationship, I never knew her to be a switch." He flushed. "I never wanted her to be."

Grissom nodded to reassure Jerome that he wouldn't think any less of him for whatever he confessed.

"Heather would never allow herself to be dominated by a man," Jerome continued. "And, to let a man inflict so much pain that it would kill her? Unthinkable. She's very adamant about how a dominant / submissive relationship works. She would stop it before it went too far."

"Unless she didn't want to stop," Grissom said. "Safe words only work when they're used. And, if the agreement was that she would be dead by the end of the session …"

"Heather wouldn't do that," Jerome insisted. "She's too strong. She couldn't be suicidal."

"She doesn't think she has anything to live for," Grissom said quietly. "She lost her daughter, and, from what she said, the last time they spoke before Zoe's death wasn't very pleasant. She gave up her business in the hopes of winning time with Allison, but that was denied to her. Her family, her profession … gone."

Jerome scrubbed his hands over his face. "She told you this?"

"No," Grissom said. "But, I spent a lot of time talking to her yesterday, after the attempt on her life. My team is investigating it – we took it to be attempted homicide. I believe my CSIs are still working it as an attempted homicide. But, after talking to her … I think it was more assisted suicide."

"Assisted suicide," Jerome repeated. He looked away for a moment, then turned back to Grissom. "And, you think that I can help her?"

"I think that she's unwilling to seek help," Grissom said. "If she doesn't see any reason to go on living, why would she bother?"

"Then, why …?"

"Because, you hold the one thing that can give her a reason to live again," Grissom said, looking over at Allison.

Jerome followed his gaze. He stared at the little girl and shook his head slightly. "You know, when we got married, we both wanted children. I knew that Heather would make a great mother. Then, everything fell apart, and she left, and … I suppose that part of wanting to keep Allison from her was revenge for the fact that she kept Zoe from me."

"You don't believe that contact with Heather would harm Allison?"

"No, of course not. Especially not now that she's closed the business."

Grissom nodded, waiting silently for Jerome to make up his mind.

"If she had been successful … if she had died … and I had found out later, I'd always have wondered if I could have prevented it," he confessed. "I can't live with the guilt of knowing that Heather killed herself because I wouldn't let her see Allison out of spite."

Grissom nodded again.

"Will you take me to her?"

"I'd be happy to."

* * *

Jerome parked his car beside Grissom's in Heather's driveway. He stared at the house as he climbed out of the car.

"We didn't live here," he said.

"What?"

"When we were married," he clarified. "We had an apartment across town. Heather said that she needed to keep her professional life separate from her personal life. She didn't want to be in the house during the day. Then, after the divorce, she moved here. I guess she figured that so much separation didn't work for her."

"Are you ready to do this?"

"Yeah," he said. "I just need to get Allison out of her car seat."

Grissom nodded. "I'll get Heather."

Jerome nodded and opened the back door of his car. Grissom turned away and walked up to Heather's front door. He knocked on the door and waited for Heather.

She looked mildly annoyed to see him standing on her doorstep. He gave her a slight smile as she sighed heavily.

"Leave me alone," she said. "I didn't ask you to save me."

"I know," Grissom said. "What am I supposed to do? I'm your friend." He smiled. "Besides, there's someone I want you to meet."

Intrigued, Heather let him pull her out of the house. She turned to look toward the driveway just as Jerome, in a moment of impeccable timing, walked up the steps with Allison in his arms. Heather looked back at Grissom, who have her a small, encouraging smile. She dropped his hand and walked toward Jerome.

She met his eyes for a brief moment before looking at the little girl in his arms. Heather's face lit up with a smile.

"Hi," she said softly.

Allison regarded her seriously for a moment.

"Say hi to Grandma, Allie," Jerome said quietly.

"Hi," Allison said in her little voice.

Tears filled Heather's eyes.

Grissom smiled. Knowing that the new family needed time alone, he faded into the background, sliding into his car and driving home.

* * *

When Grissom walked into the house, Sara was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of tea. Hank, who had appointed himself her guardian when she had come home so upset, was lying at her feet. He barely even glanced up when Grissom came in; Grissom took this as a very bad sign. _Even the _dog's_ on her side._

"Hi," he said cautiously.

"Spend your afternoon with Heather, too?" Sara asked, her voice caustic.

"Yes," Grissom said slowly. "Well, sort of. I spent a lot of it with her ex-husband, too."

"Oh," Sara said. "What a nice family reunion."

"It was," he agreed.

Sara laughed mirthlessly. "Okay, you know what? This civil thing isn't working for me."

"I wasn't aware there was much civility in it at all," Grissom replied.

Sara's eyes flashed fire. "Don't start that. Don't start acting like you have any right at all to be mad at me! Not after you …"

"After I what?" he asked. He was baiting her and he knew it, but he needed to know exactly which of his sins she was so angry about. He could defend himself better if he knew what he was fighting.

Sara threw her hands up in disgust. "After you spent the night with Heather!" she yelled, jumping out of her chair. "Damn it, Grissom! You promised me! After the last time you spent the night with her, you promised me you'd never do it again. You promised me that you'd let me know where you are. And, one year later, here we are, having the same fucking fight, over the same fucking woman –"

"I'm not fucking her, if that's what you think," Grissom said calmly.

"No," Sara said, "that's not what I think. I know you better than that."

"Good," he said, feeling relief seep through him. At least she didn't think he'd sink that low.

"God," she muttered, looking away, "I hate this."

"Sara, I'm sorry –"

"I hate that we're like this!" she yelled, interrupting him. "I hate that we're both so bad at this that we can't even have a rational fight! I can barely find a way to tell you how disgusted I am with myself for letting you off the hook … for letting you think everything was fine when you couldn't even find the words to tell me what you had done. _Eurgh_!" She grabbed her hair back from her face, holding it in a ponytail for a moment before dropping it. "I hate that you don't even know how to explain yourself! I hate that you were with her! I hate that Catherine just told me like it was some _gossip_ that I'd be dying to hear! I hate that – that –"

"She tried to kill herself," Grissom blurted out, effectively stopping Sara mid-tirade.

"What?" she asked, staring at him in shock.

"Heather was suicidal," Grissom said. "I had the broad outline figured out before, but I talked to Catherine on the way home. She filled in the details."

"Which are?"

"Heather charged Oakley almost a million dollars to play out his fantasy – killing a woman by strangulation. She used the money to set up a trust fund for her granddaughter. After she was denied visitation with Allison, she felt she had lost everything. So, she sold her life to make sure that Allison could have a good life."

"But, then, why …?"

"In the end, she couldn't go through with it. I think she passed out and he thought she was dead and left. But, she wouldn't let herself give up – she held on until the paramedics were there to take care of her." He sighed. "After I saw her in the hospital and talked to you when you first started going through the evidence, I knew something wasn't right. I told you as much. When you said there were three strangulation attempts … when you told me about the liquor … when I thought about the fact that she didn't even bother to tell her doctors about her diabetes … She wasn't acting like someone who wanted to live. I needed to talk to her … to find out what was going on in her head."

"You're not a therapist."

"No," he agreed, surprised she was being so cold. "But, Sara –"

"Do you think telling me this excuses you from what you did?" she asked, cutting him off.

Grissom looked at her in surprise. "Sara, Heather was at the lowest point a person can reach. I'm her friend. Would you rather I had left her in a suicidal depression?"

"No, of course not. I'd rather you had told me all this two days ago. I'd rather you had explained where you were going and why you wouldn't be home … or, in this case, at the lab. I'd rather you had stuck to the promise you made me the _last_ time you spent the night with Heather, leaving me to worry about you. I'd rather that I heard about what happened from _you_ first, not from Catherine. I'd rather that I hadn't had to listen to her go on and on about how _perfect_ she believes Heather is for you and, then, less than twenty-four hours later, listen to her tell me about you spending the night with her. I'd rather …" Her voice broke and she looked away. "I'd rather a lot of things."

Understanding dawned slowly. She was angry at him for breaking his promise, to be sure. She was certainly angry with him for not telling her where he had been himself, but letting her hear it through lab gossip – which could have been avoided if he had listened to Jim. But, most importantly, she was _jealous_ of Heather … as jealous as Sara would let herself become. She was, for the first time in a long time, showing him how insecure she could be.

"You know, Catherine told me that she was proud of me for what I did," Grissom said. Ignoring Sara's strangled exclamation, he continued, "She said I made a decision with my heart instead of my head. Logically, I knew I shouldn't go to see Heather for any reason. Not when she was the subject of an ongoing investigation being run by my team. But, she's my friend and she needed my help. I felt compelled to go." He paused. "Before you, I never would have done that."

Sara looked at him with wide eyes.

"Sara, you are the reason I make any decisions with my heart," he said. "Bringing you breakfast that morning when you were suspended was the first decision I made with my heart. Everything has been different to me since that day because … because, that was the day I started to _find_ my heart. _You_ _are_ my heart, Sara. You are …" His voice cracked, and he swallowed before continuing. "I love you, Sara. I love you for who you are, and I love you for the person you've helped me to become."

Tears gathered in Sara's eyes; one slid down her cheek. Far too emotional to vocalize a single thought, she closed the distance between them and kissed him softly and tenderly.

"I love you, too," she whispered. She kissed him again. "But, don't you _ever_ do _anything_ like that to me again."

"Never," he promised. "Never."

Sara cuddled against him, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment. "Is Heather going to be okay?" she asked in a small voice.

"I think so," Grissom replied. "I found Jerome – her ex-husband – today, and talked to him. I convinced him to let her spend time with Allison. He was very concerned. He'll make sure she gets the help she needs."

"Good," Sara said. She was relieved that Heather would get help, to be sure, but she was more relieved to know that someone other than Grissom would be there to take care of her in the future.

Grissom leaned back slightly and tipped Sara's chin up to look into her eyes. "I am sorry, Sara. I never meant to hurt you."

She smiled slightly. "I know. I'm sorry for yelling at you like that. It's just … difficult to think of you with another woman."

He smiled. "For both of us."

Sara's smile grew wider. She leaned in to kiss him again.


	94. Another Shot

A/N: And so begins the most stressful part of Grissom and Sara's relationship. This is going to take some time, so I ask for you patience as I unravel the next few episodes.

I also ask for your patience with my posting timetable. I'll be out of town next weekend, so I can't promise another update until the weekend after. I'm sorry in advance, and I can only hope that it will be worth the wait.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 724, "Living Doll."

* * *

_Another Shot_

"You know, sometimes I think I _like_ fighting with you."

"What on earth do you mean?" Grissom asked, looking down at the top of Sara's head.

She grinned and lifted her head from its spot on his shoulder so she could look into his eyes. "The make up sex is always _unbelievable_."

Grissom laughed and ran his fingers through her sweaty hair. "Well, I aim to please."

She giggled and buried her face in his chest, kissing the bare skin. "You always do." She rested her chin on his chest and looked up at him, reaching across to entwine her fingers with his. "You are so incredibly sexy."

"And you are so incredibly amazing," Grissom replied. "I love you, Sara."

She grinned, feeling a warm, tingly feeling slide through her. "I love you, too." She yawned. "I think you wore me out."

Grissom chuckled. He raised their joined hands and kissed her fingers. "Sleep, sweetheart."

"Yes, dear," she replied, yawning again.

She snuggled against him, letting herself drift into a calm, dreamless sleep. Grissom watched for a few moments, running his fingers through her hair, until he followed her into slumber.

* * *

Sara awoke hours later to the feel of Grissom's lips against her cheek. She smiled and slowly opened her eyes.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he replied, brushing her hair back from her face. "I wanted to say goodbye."

Sara frowned. "Where are you going?"

"To the lab," he replied. "I need to catch up on a few things before shift starts."

"Oh." Sara twisted her head to see the clock on her nightstand. "I'll see you in a few hours, then."

"Right," he agreed. He bent down to kiss her lips. "Sweet dreams."

Sara smiled. "I'll dream of you."

Kissing her one last time, Grissom left her to her dreams.

* * *

Sara could hear her phone ringing as she stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a towel to wrap around herself, she ran to grab it. She grinned to see Grissom's name on the display.

"Hey, lover."

Grissom's face flushed, even though he knew that there was no way anyone else had heard what Sara had called him. "Hi."

Sara giggled. "You're at a scene, aren't you?"

"Yes," he sighed. "And, I'm sure you already assumed that, and it's exactly why you called me that."

She laughed again. "Do you want to know where I am?"

"At home, I'd expect."

"Yes," she confirmed. "I just got out of the shower. My hair is wet, and I'm wearing –"

"You'd better dry it, because I need you to come to work," Grissom said quickly, interrupting her before she could begin to describe her pink robe, or, worse, her lingerie.

His distraction worked beautifully. "You need help with the scene?"

"Yes. It's a possible miniature case."

"Oh, wow. I'll be right there."

* * *

By the time Sara arrived at the scene, people were everywhere. Brass met her in the hallway.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," he replied. He rolled his eyes. "I've been interviewing the neighbors."

Sara grinned at the look on his face. "I'm guessing no one heard anything?"

"They never do."

Sara giggled. "So, what's the story on this one?"

"Well, Grissom and I came here expecting to talk to Trevor Dell, one of Ernie's foster kids. But, when we got here, we found Trevor's cold, dead body. That pretty much ended our dreams of a conversation with him."

Sara's eyes widened. "Well, I guess that counts him out at the Miniature Killer."

"I have to agree with you on that one," Brass said. "Grissom and David are in the bathroom with the body."

"Thanks," Sara said.

"Oh, and Sara, I meant what I said about his _cold_ body – it's freezing in there."

She smiled. "Thanks for the warning."

She ducked under the crime scene tape across the apartment door and headed for the bathroom, where she could hear David explaining something to Grissom. They were both crouched down next to the victim when she appeared in the doorway. She shone her flashlight on the body.

"Miniature Killer?" she asked.

Grissom sighed and stood up. "It's hard to say," he said. "We haven't found a miniature of the scene yet. Just this." He held up a tiny doll encased in a plastic evidence bag. "Clothes match. The vic's a PT nurse."

Sara nodded, noting that both the victim and the doll wore a hospital uniform.

"But, there's no blood on the doll, and it's not posed like the body," Grissom continued.

Sara's flashlight beam fell on a bottle of bathroom cleaner next to the sink. "Bleach at the scene, just like the others." She paused, thinking it through. "Maybe … this one wasn't planned. Maybe the killer has to make the miniature after the fact, which is why it's so cold in here, to preserve the body."

Grissom looked at her for a moment, thinking that she could have a point. "I don't think we can rule anything out. It's all yours, my dear."

Sara gave him a slight smile, knowing that he wasn't giving her the scene as any particular favor. She was certain that he couldn't wait to get back to the lab to begin processing the new doll.

"You want me to wait before I move him, don't you?" David asked.

"If you don't mind," Sara said. "I need some photos."

"You've got it."

"Hey, little girl."

Sara looked up and smiled at Warrick. "Where did you come from?"

"Grissom called me in. He thought you might need some back up on this one."

"I'm always happy to have the help," Sara said.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Want to start on the rest of the apartment?"

"You've got it."

* * *

Grissom took the doll back to the lab and immediately took the other dolls from their miniatures. He put them all on the table in the layout room, and began comparing the materials used to construct them. Remembering all that his autopsy of the doll in the last miniature had taught him, he flipped the Trevor doll over in his hands and began to cut off its shirt.

"Comparing construction materials of the new doll to see if it's the same work as the others?" Catherine asked as she walked into the room.

"Yeah," Grissom confirmed.

Catherine nodded slightly. "Was there any doubt?"

"I live by the uncertainty principle," Grissom replied. "The mere act of observing a phenomenon changes its nature."

Catherine smiled as she nodded again. "So, in trying to catch the killer, we've changed his behavior."

"I'm certain we have."

Catherine was on the verge of teasing him about his _certainty_ going against his life's _un_certainty principle when he frowned. He put the doll down, pulled off his glasses and grabbed goggles and the ALS. Catherine, looking over his shoulder, couldn't see what had captured his attention.

"What?" she asked.

"A fingerprint," Grissom said, excitement practically oozing from him.

"Well, there was no physical trace on any of the other dolls or the miniatures," Catherine said, shaking her head at this bizarre turn of events.

"Maybe he's finally gotten careless," Grissom said, shutting off the ALS and straightening up.

"Well, that makes sense," Catherine said. "If we haven't solved the crimes yet, who's to say we ever will?"

Grissom looked at her in disbelief.

"Thinking like the killer," she clarified. "He's getting over-confident."

"Ah," Grissom said, nodding. "I'm sure you're right. And, if his over-confidence led to this mistake, perhaps there are more."

Catherine nodded. "It's a shame we don't have the entire miniature to work with. If he left a fingerprint on the doll, who's to say what he might have left in an entire little room?"

"Good point," Grissom said. "Sara suggested that the murder may not have been planned, so he's still working on the miniature – making it match the scene, like he did with the Penny Garden miniature."

"That makes sense," Catherine agreed. "Have you talked to Sara? Has she found any other miniature components at the scene?"

"No, I haven't talked to her. She and Warrick had just started processing when I left. I doubt they've found anything telling yet. They would have called."

"True. Who's on the body?"

"Nick." He glanced at his watch. "We have a meeting in about five hours to go over all our findings. I'll get all their news then."

Catherine looked down at the doll on the table. "Do the two of you need some time alone together, or can I take him to Mandy for you?"

Grissom smiled. "Would you do that for me? That would be great."

"You're sure you won't miss him?" Catherine teased as she pulled on a pair of gloves before picking up the doll.

"Well, I do have all his friends to keep me company. I don't think I'll get lonely."

Catherine chuckled as she took the doll to the print lab.

* * *

Further testing proved with complete certainty that the Trevor doll had been made with the same materials as the dolls in the previous miniatures. They were investigating yet another death at the hands of the Miniature Killer.

Grissom was reading over the reports Hodges had provided when Mandy knocked on his open door. He looked up and gave her a nod.

"Hi, Mandy. How did you do with the print?"

"Not so good," she replied, walking into his office and stopping in front of his desk. "It was only a partial. I tried to pull enough to run it, but there just wasn't enough there. I'm sorry."

Grissom sighed. "It's hardly your fault. Don't worry about it."

"But, I do have some good news," she added.

"Okay," Grissom said, encouraging her to continue.

"I found epithelials in the print," she said. "I sent the doll to Wendy for processing."

Grissom's eyes lit up. "That's fantastic, Mandy. Thank you so much."

She smiled. "Just doing my job."

* * *

While Wendy was processing cells Mandy had found in the doll's back, Nick, Sara and Warrick put together as much as they had to explain Trevor's death. Warrick used his IM and cell phone records to estimate that Trevor had been dead for twelve days.

Nick relayed Doc Robbins's findings that Trevor had been killed by multiple blunt force trauma to the head. Sara's inspection of the bathroom uncovered signs of a struggle; taken with Nick's report, they agreed that the killer had beaten Trevor's head against several surfaces in the bathroom to kill him. As Sara pointed out, it was a rather up close and personal murder for their normally hands-off killer.

"Well," Nick said, "we all know how personal stabbings are. The same principle likely applies here. Trevor was one of Ernie Dell's foster children, and, assuming we're on the right track, so is the killer. Maybe there's some long-standing bad blood between them."

Sara nodded slowly. "We should probably assume that the killer lived with Ernie for quite some time – it only makes sense that they have a deep bond if Ernie took a bullet for him. So, if he and Trevor were foster siblings, Nick's probably right."

"So, we're looking for someone who had a beef with Trevor Dell," Warrick said. "Maybe we should start interviewing his friends. They might know who would want to hurt him."

"It's a start," Grissom agreed. "Talk to Brass. He interviewed the neighbors; maybe someone was close with Trevor and would know his enemies. Try his coworkers, too."

"You've got it," Sara said. "You guys in?"

"I'm with you," Warrick said, standing up.

Grissom nodded. "Good luck."

* * *

Sara and Warrick were still talking to Trevor's neighbors when Wendy dropped the bombshell that changed the face of their investigation. She walked into Grissom's office, where he and Nick were discussing the bracelet the Trevor doll was wearing.

"Items like Trevor Dell's metal bracelet are difficult to make even for skilled craftsmen," Grissom was saying. "I'm trying to find people who specialize in miniature metalwork."

"Hey," Wendy said as she entered the room, knocking lightly on the open door. "I got DNA off the Trevor Doll."

She had Grissom's complete attention, but Nick was still absorbed in studying the doll.

"There were two contributors, the vic and an unknown," Wendy said. "There was nothing in CODIS, but … the unknown one is XX."

Grissom's mouth dropped open. The doll and magnifying glass Nick had been using were forgotten on Grissom's desk. Grissom looked at Nick in shock.

"The Miniature Killer's a woman?" Nick asked, looking completely flabbergasted.

Grissom looked back at Wendy, who was nodding. "Female serial killers are rare enough," he said. "Delusional psychosis in women? Rarer still."

"Well, female cuts the list down a little bit," Nick said, his eternal optimism shining through.

"You could also narrow it down even further by cross-referencing the dates that Trevor lived with Ernie," Wendy suggested. "I mean, that's got to be enough to get the foster records released, right?"

Grissom shook his head. "The family court judge was explicit. No fishing expeditions. We need to go in with a name."

Grissom's computer beeped, grabbing his attention. He read the message, a reply to his post on a miniature hobbyists' site requesting information about miniature metalworkers. He clicked the link the helpful model-maker had posted, and found himself at the website of a hobby shop he had visited quite frequently. He was friendly with the owner at this point; the man had been an invaluable resource. He knew exactly what Grissom was doing and why, and was more than willing to offer any help he could. Grissom smiled slightly. If Art had made the bracelet, he was practically guaranteed a name for the Miniature Killer.

"I'll be back," he said, standing up and picking up the doll. "I have to go see the Shadow Caster of the Forgotten Realms."

Nick and Wendy both smirked as he disappeared from the office. Nick's smile faded as he looked at the pictures Archie had created from Ernie Dell's home movies.

"What's wrong?" Wendy asked.

"I don't know … I just don't think that a woman could have done that to Trevor Dell." He looked at Wendy a bit apprehensively, knowing exactly how Sara would have taken that comment. "I'm not saying that she isn't strong, just that … Trevor was a pretty muscular guy. For a woman to give him a beating like that in his own bathroom … It just doesn't seem likely."

"So … you think she had help?"

"Maybe. I'm just not sure what kind."

* * *

While Grissom was on his way to the hobby shop, Nick and Doc Robbins found tissue on Trevor's foot that proved he had been electrocuted. Nick and Catherine went to his apartment, where they learned that his neighbor had been stealing his electricity. A poor wiring job had resulted in an electrified sink, which had resulted in Trevor's death. The current had tossed his body around, killing him and creating what appeared to be signs of a struggle in his bathroom.

"Maybe the Miniature Killer wasn't involved in this one," Catherine said as they drove back to the lab.

"Yeah, maybe we had it backwards," Nick agreed. "Maybe she and Trevor actually had a really _good_ relationship, and she made the doll for him as a gift."

Catherine shook her head. "Creepy gift."

"Yeah, well, she's a creepy person."

"It's a shame that his neighbor accidentally killed him," Catherine said. "If he had been alive when Grissom and Brass got there, Trevor probably would have been a wealth of information about the killer."

Nick shook his head. "We just can't catch a break on this one, can we?"

"Everything we've got has been a break, Nicky," Catherine replied. "They're just smaller than the breaks we'd like to catch."

"_Miniature_ breaks, huh?" Nick asked with a grin.

Catherine rolled her eyes and pursed her lips to hide her smile.

* * *

Grissom walked into the hobby shop, which was rather empty. Art stood behind the counter, making notes in a ledger.

"Hello, Art," Grissom said.

"Oh, hey, Dr. Grissom," he said, abandoning his book work to join Grissom. "How's the miniature going?"

"It's coming along, thank you," Grissom said. He offered the bagged doll to Art. "We found another one."

"Oh, man," Art said, clearly upset. "He struck again?"

"I think so," Grissom said, nodding. "By any chance, did you make this bracelet?"

Art picked up a magnifying glass to look at it. "Oh, yeah, I made that," he said, "for a _chick_, man."

Grissom looked at him, feeling a sudden excitement. He hoped Art kept good records.

"Uh …" Art reached down beneath the counter to pull out a notepad. "_Natalie_," he said triumphantly, finding the order slip.

"Do you have a last name?" Grissom asked.

Art shook his head. "I didn't think to write it down. Paid cash … call cell phone when ready."

Grissom looked at the number. His excitement changed to disappointment "That's the same cell number we already have. Do you remember what she looked like?"

"Late 20s, early 30s? She's about this high … brown hair … she's a kind of skinny chick," he said, indicating her size with his hands. "_Weird_."

"Weird, how?"

"I got guys who come in here trying to recreate Civil War battles, hoping for a different outcome. I get the desperate housewives who are trying to build the _perfect_ Thanksgiving dinner. Control freaks with social problems, that's my bread and butter, but this chick … she had _crazy_ eyes, you know?"

"Was that the last time you saw her?"

"You know what? She came in a few days ago. She … yeah. She bought one of these." He held up a small motor for Grissom to see.

"Battery-powered micro-motor?" Grissom asked, taking the motor and turning it in his hands.

"You just attach that to anything you want to animate," Art explained. "Like … ah …" He grabbed another miniature, this one of a group of people playing tug of war. "Like this."

Grissom watched as the two teams pulled the rope back and forth in an endless game.

"No one ever wins," Art commented.

"Well, right now, it looks like _she's_ winning," Grissom said. "If she comes in again, can you call me immediately?"

"You've got it."

"Thanks, Art. You've been very helpful."

"Always happy to be of assistance."

Grissom gave him a parting smile, and made his way back out into the bright, Nevada sunshine. He sighed. It wasn't as much as he would have liked, but Art had given him quite a bit of information. A _name_ … even a first name … The family court judge had said that they needed a name before he'd release any records to them. It wasn't her entire name, but still …

"Natalie," he whispered.

He could only hope that it would be enough.


	95. Moving Fast in Slow Motion

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience as you awaited this chapter. I hope it lives up to your expectations!

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episodes 724, "Living Doll" and 801, "Dead Doll."

* * *

_Moving Fast in Slow Motion_

"I just heard that Nick and Catherine disproved my theory."

Grissom smiled as Sara walked into his office. "I think they disproved a theory we all shared. None of us would have guessed that the doll at the scene meant anything other than murder."

"Well, if Trevor was friendly with the Miniature Killer, maybe that will make her easier to find," Sara suggested as she sat down. "Warrick and I got pages of information about his friends and social life from his neighbors and coworkers. We've probably got something on her in there somewhere."

"I'm hoping we won't need to go that far with it," Grissom said. "I gave her first name to Sofia to take to the family courts. We'll see if that's enough to have her records unsealed."

Sara shook her head. "You know, of all the ways to go through foster care … she was lucky. She had foster parents who obviously loved her, and who continued to love her even after she aged out and didn't live with them anymore. She had at least one foster brother she remained close to into adulthood. Not many kids come out of the system with a background like that. To have had such a stable force in her life for so long … you'd think she'd stand a better chance of becoming something other than a serial killer."

"I think we've found an argument for _nature_, rather than _nurture_," Grissom said.

"Well, that's assuming that she comes from a long line of serial killers," Sara said, smirking. "But, weren't you the one who said that violent behavior isn't genetic?"

"It isn't," Grissom said easily. "But, mental illness can be. If we're right … if we're dealing with someone with severe mental illness … she could have inherited that. And, if it wasn't inherited … she was removed from her family for a reason. Who knows what emotional stressors she encountered early in life? She was likely well on her way to a psychotic disorder before she ever moved in with Ernie Dell."

Sara nodded slowly.

The phone on Grissom's desk rang, interrupting their conversation.

"Grissom. … Really? … Yeah, I'm on my way. Thanks."

Grissom put the phone done and looked at Sara with excitement shining in his eyes. She smiled at him.

"You look like the kid who got everything he wanted for Christmas," she said. "What news did you get?"

"That was Sofia," Grissom said. "A first name was enough. Family court ordered the records released. We're going to go visit her first foster mother right now. Want to come along?"

Sara's smile faded slightly. "Um … no. I'm pushing it with overtime this month as it is. I'm going to go home and get some sleep."

A shadow passed across Grissom's eyes. "Sara … did I …?"

"Listen, don't worry about it," she said, standing up. "I am more than committed to this investigation, and to finding the Miniature Killer. I … I just don't like to spend too much time thinking about that part of my life, and I don't think that visiting a foster parent is the healthiest thing for me to do."

"Okay," Grissom said quietly. "I'll come home as soon as we're done with the visit."

She nodded. "I'll see you when I see you."

"I'll see you when I see you."

* * *

"Is it wrong for me to say that I can't believe we're doing this?" Sofia asked as they parked in front of Frank and Donna Wetzel's house.

Grissom frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We've been chasing this killer for months," Sofia explained. "Now, we're finally learning who she is and finding the people who raised her … I just can't believe it's finally happening."

"Well, let's not count our chickens before they're hatched," Grissom said. "She didn't live here for very long. We may not be able to get much information from them."

"Fair enough," Sofia said with a grin.

They climbed out of the car and walked toward the house, which seemed to be teeming with children. A woman walked across the yard carrying a huge bucket of toys.

"Hi," she said in greeting. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Donna Wetzel?" Sofia asked.

"Yes."

Sofia smiled. "I'm Sofia Curtis and this is Gil Grissom. We're here –"

"I'm sorry," Donna said, cutting her off. "Did I totally flake on an appointment?"

"We're not with Social Services," Sofia said. "We're here to ask you about a foster child you had a number of years ago."

"Oh, geez, you can try," Donna said. "We've had about sixty – yeah, honey?"

She interrupted herself to speak to a little girl who ran up to complain about television time. Donna solved the crisis, and led Grissom and Sofia into the kitchen, swapping her bucket of toys for a basket of laundry along the way.

"Her birth name was Natalie Davis," Grissom said, referring to the paper in his hands. "She would have been about seven when she came here in 1982?"

"Oh, '82?" Donna asked, slightly surprised they were going that far back. "Let's see."

She put down the laundry and picked up a photo album, immediately starting to flip its pages. She was again interrupted by a child, this one wanting to show off an A on a book report, but, after giving the girl a congratulatory hug, quickly returned to her task. Grissom looked at the album, surprised to see that it was full of dated pictures of children.

"Do you take a photo of every child?" he asked.

"Every single one, their first night here," Donna said with a smile. "I just feel like it gives them a sense of belonging right away. Most of them come to us so damaged they don't know what it's like to belong to anything."

Grissom and Sofia were duly impressed.

"Here we go," she said, finding the right page. Her finger fell on Natalie's picture. "Oh, _Natalie_. Yeah, shy as anything until I tried to do her laundry, then she screamed her little head off."

_Laundry_. Well, that much made sense, assuming Hodges was correct about Natalie's trigger. "Do you use bleach, Mrs. Wetzel?" Grissom asked.

She chuckled. "Have you ever even _seen_ a load of kids' laundry? Of course I use bleach." She picked up some things off the counter. "Excuse me just a second."

"According to Child Services, she only stayed with you a week," Grissom said, raising his voice to call to her in the next room. "Do you remember why?"

"Yeah," Donna said as she came back into the room. "A couple of nights into her stay, she climbed up into the top bunk and pushed another little girl out. Of course we talked to her about it, but she did it again the very next night – almost broke her collar bone."

"So," Sofia asked in disbelief, "you just sent her back?" She couldn't imagine this woman turning anyone away.

Donna sighed. "After a few dozen kids, you get real good at knowing the difference between damaged and broken. Natalie was … broken."

"Do you have any idea what happened to break her?" Grissom asked.

"I believe she had lost her mother and her sister," Donna said.

"Her father wasn't in the picture?" Sofia asked.

Donna shook her head. "Her father gave her up. Turned her over to the state."

Grissom and Sofia exchanged a startled glance.

"Willingly?" Sofia asked.

"As far as I know, there was no abuse involved," Donna said. She shook her head. "Some of these kids come from the most horrible backgrounds you can possibly imagine. Abusive parents, absent parents, homelessness, addictions … As terrible as it sounds, I can understand why they are the way they are. But, Natalie … I know it was only a week, but I couldn't figure her out. From what I could see, she had a fairly good home life until she came to us."

"Did you keep up with her at all after she left you?" Sofia asked.

Donna smiled slightly. "Ms. Curtis, I'm not trying to be unfeeling, but I have at least six children in this house at all times. Right now, I have ten. Just keeping up with the ones who live with me is enough of a challenge."

Grissom and Sofia exchanged a glance.

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Wetzel," Sofia said. "You've been very helpful."

"Oh, you're welcome," she said. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No –" Sofia began.

"Actually, yes," Grissom said, cutting her off. "Could we take that picture with us? The one of Natalie from her first night here?"

"Sure," Donna said, pulling it out of the album.

"Thank you," Grissom said, pocketing the picture. "We appreciate it."

"Of course. If there's anything else, stop on by."

"Thank you," Grissom said again.

"Wait," Donna said as they turned to leave. "Why all the questions about Natalie? Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"She's a suspect in serial homicide investigation," Grissom said.

Donna's eyes widened. "Oh, dear …"

"You said it yourself," Sofia said. "She's broken."

"Yeah," Donna agreed. "But, even knowing … you always hope you're wrong."

* * *

The house was quiet when Grissom walked through his front door. Assuming that Sara and Hank were either sleeping or out for a run, he put down his bag and keys, kicked off his shoes and made his way to the bedroom. Hank, for once, was sleeping in his own bed under the window; Sara was curled up under the covers. Grissom smiled at the sight of her tousled hair and silently crossed the bedroom to the bathroom.

"I'm awake," Sara mumbled as Grissom's hand closed on the doorknob. "You don't have to be quiet for my sake."

Grissom abandoned his thought of taking a shower and went back to the bed. He sat down above the covers and leaned over to kiss Sara's shoulder. "You should be asleep."

"So should you," she replied. She rolled over onto her back so she could look up at him. "How was your visit?"

"Informative."

Sara rolled her eyes. "That's all you're going to give me?"

Grissom paused, choosing his words. "Donna Wetzel is one of the most generous, giving, loving people I've ever met," he said at last. "She told us that she's had over sixty foster children. Watching her with them … you'd think they were all _her_ children. She remembered Natalie, too, once she saw her picture."

Sara sat up. "You have a picture of her?"

Grissom shook his head. "Not a current one. The Wetzels take a photo of each child on his or her first night with them. Mrs. Wetzel said she thinks it gives them a sense of belonging."

"Wow," Sara said. "She does sound amazing. Why did Natalie leave her?"

"She said that Natalie shoved another little girl out of the top bunk. They talked to her about it, but then she did it again. From what she said, the girl was nearly seriously injured the second time. After that, they sent her out of the house."

Sara shook her head. "I guess you were right. She was well on her way to becoming a serial killer right from the beginning."

"I don't know …" Grissom said slowly, trailing off into silence.

Sara smiled. "I know that look. What's bothering you?"

"I wonder … if she had stayed with the Wetzels … Do you think it would have made a difference?"

"I don't know," Sara said, shaking her head. "It sounds to me like she needed a lot of help. Maybe if she had gotten it when she was a little girl, it would have made a difference. But, that's not what happened, and now … we'll never know what could have been."

Sara looked away, staring straight ahead into blank space. Grissom watched her for a moment, then took her hand, gently squeezing it.

"Hey," he said softly.

Sara shook her head slightly, then turned to him with a small smile. "Hey."

"Want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Okay."

She leaned in closer, resting her head against his shoulder. Grissom let go of her hand to wrap his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. Her head slid down lower on his chest; he rested his chin against it.

"I just want you to hold me," she said softly. "I just want us to stay like this for awhile."

Grissom tipped his chin down to kiss the top of her head. "I love you, Sara. I'll do anything you ask."

She smiled against his chest. "I love you, too."

* * *

When Grissom walked into the lab several hours before his next shift, his mission was clear. He needed to find Natalie Davis's biological father.

The search proved to be easier than he had anticipated. Of course, when the search reveals that a performer is its target, it tends to end quickly.

Catherine walked past Grissom's office, looking rather disgruntled. Surprised, but pleased, to see her at work so early, Grissom called her back.

"Catherine!"

She turned and walked into his office. "Hey," she said. "You're here early."

"So are you."

"Meeting with Ecklie," she said, rolling her eyes. "What's your excuse?"

"Following a lead on our Miniature Killer."

"Oh-o," Catherine said, sitting down across his desk from him. "What did you find?"

"Her biological father," Grissom said. "Want to come with me to talk to him?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

Grissom grinned. "I thought you might feel that way. If we go now, we'll be able to catch his last show of the night."

"Wait, what?" Catherine asked, following him out of his office. "What show?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Sara woke to find Grissom gone. Noting that his LVPD vest and jacket were gone, she assumed he had gone into work early. It didn't surprise her; she was sure he needed to work on the notes from his interview with Donna Wetzel. She smiled. Two years ago, he would have stayed at the lab until his next shift started to work on the case. Now, he came home as soon as he could to be with her. Her smile widened. He loved her.

She climbed out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. She had enough time to stop at her favorite vegetarian restaurant before her shift started. It was in one of the strip malls she passed on the way to the lab; she usually stopped there at least once a week. Even if she didn't have time to stop and eat, she'd grab something to take to work to eat later. Tonight, though, she'd have time to sit down at eat. She smiled, thinking that Mimi, her favorite waitress, would likely be working. She hadn't seen her in a few days. It would be good to catch up.

* * *

"Okay, _now_ will you tell me what we're doing?" Catherine asked as Grissom led her though a casino.

Grissom smiled and handed her a flyer. Catherine looked at it in confusion.

"The Great Rainone and his Little Bisque Doll?" she read. "Oh, that looks like the doll images from the miniatures! What's a bisque?"

"Fired, unglazed pottery," Grissom replied. "Her biological father was Christopher Davis, a ventriloquist."

"A grown man who sticks his hand up the back of a doll and speaks like a girl," Catherine deadpanned. "Sounds healthy."

"I Googled him," Grissom said, handing Catherine the folder he was carrying and his reading glasses.

Catherine began reading the article on top as she adjusted Grissom's glasses on her face. Her eyes fell on the picture of Christopher Davis holding his bisque doll and a little girl. She read the caption and frowned. "Who's Chloe?"

"Natalie's younger sister," Grissom replied. "In 1981, she fell out of a tree house and died, but her father's still alive – and still performing."

"Oh," Catherine said, taking off Grissom's glasses and giving them back to him. "So, that's the show you wanted us to catch?"

"Right this way," Grissom said, giving her a smile.

They found a table in the middle of the room and sat down. A waitress appeared almost immediately.

"What can I get you?" she asked.

"I'll have a diet cola," Catherine said.

"Great. Sir?"

"Nothing for me, thanks," Grissom said.

"All right."

The girl disappeared and Catherine looked at Grissom with a slight smile.

"What?"

"Not drinking on the job?"

Grissom smiled. "Not this time, dear."

Catherine laughed. She was still chuckling when their waitress delivered her drink. She took a sip and smiled at Grissom.

"I have a feeling that a little rum in this would make for a more enjoyable show."

"Probably," Grissom agreed.

They fell silent as the Great Rainone took the stage. It was only a matter of moments before they both found themselves horrified. The man now called his doll "Chloe," and seemed to be using her as a replacement for the daughter he had lost. As the show drew to a close, they joined in the polite applause, but both stared at the stage with looks of shock on their faces.

"Ok-ay," Catherine said slowly. "We're in a David Lynch movie. Where's the dwarf?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me you thought that was creepy," Catherine said.

"Oh, that was creepy," Grissom agreed. "And, now, we get to interview him."

Catherine shook her head. "Why did I agree to come with you tonight?"

Grissom smiled. "Because you find the deviant behavior of the people as Las Vegas fascinating."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Let's go talk to our man."

Getting backstage was easy enough; they only had to show their credentials to one person before making their way to the Great Rainone's dressing room. He smiled as they approached.

"Hello," he said. "Would you like an autograph?"

"No, sir, thank you," Grissom said. "You're Christopher Davis?"

"That's right," he said, a bit surprised.

"My name is Gil Grissom," Grissom said, "and this is Catherine Willows. We're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and we'd like to ask you a few questions, if we may."

Christopher's eyes widened. "Sure," he said. "Would you like to go out to the bar with me? I usually have a drink after my last show of the night."

"That would be fine."

They let him lead them to the bar. Catherine was a bit unnerved to see that he was carrying his doll with them; he held her against his shoulder as though she were a baby. As they sat down at the bar another act, this one a group of Rat Pack impersonators, was already taking the stage he had so recently vacated.

"The usual, Mr. Davis?" the bartender asked.

"Yes, please," he replied.

"And …?"

"No, thank you," Grissom said. He glanced at Catherine, who shook her head as she took a seat. "We're both fine."

"Now, then," Christopher said as the bartender went to get him his usual whiskey. "What questions did you want to ask me?"

"I was wondering if you know this little girl," Grissom said, handing him the picture that Donna Wetzel had taken of Natalie during her first night with her.

Christopher studied it for a minute, his eyes taking on a far-away look for a moment. "Yeah," he said, giving the picture back to Grissom, "that was my other daughter."

Catherine was horrified by how dismissive he was of his child. "So, being a performer and a parent had to have been hard, it seems."

"It wasn't hard until my wife passed away," Mr. Davis replied. "Natalie was six and Chloe was four. It was … um …" He shook his head. "Pepper and salt. Darkness and light. Within the year, my whole family was just … poof. Gone." Tears filled his eyes.

"What happened?" Grissom asked.

To their shock, the doll's head moved on his shoulder, asking if she could tell the story. Christopher granted permission, and the doll told them about the afternoon that she had Natalie had spent playing in their tree house. Although the details were not all clear – Christopher had not been watching as Chloe fell – it was obvious to both Grissom and Catherine that Natalie had shoved her little sister out of the tree house. The impact with the pavement below had fractured her skull and broken her neck, killing her almost instantly – and, leaving a large blood pool.

"Had the girls been fighting?" Catherine asked.

"Chloe would never fight," Christopher replied, still shocked by the events of over two decades before.

"How did Natalie deal with it?" Grissom asked.

"I don't know," Christopher admitted. "It was hard on both of us. I remember her just standing there, watching me clean Chloe's blood off the pavement …"

"What did you use to clean it up?" Catherine asked, glancing at Grissom.

"Bleach," he said. "It was all I could think of to get the blood out …" He shook his head. "I tried for awhile, but I just couldn't handle her. I had to give her up." He leaned his cheek against his doll's head.

"Did you keep any contact with her?" Grissom asked.

"No," he said. "I thought it would be better for both of us that way."

"So, you have no idea where she is now, or what she's doing?"

"No, I … Is Natalie in some kind of trouble?"

Grissom and Catherine exchanged a glance.

"We'd like to talk to her," Catherine said.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I have no idea how to find her. I wish I could help you, but …"

"You've been very helpful," Grissom assured him. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Davis."

"Yes, thank you," Catherine said.

He nodded. "You're welcome."

They left the bar, walking in silence until they were in the casino again. Donna Wetzel's words ran through Grissom's head: _"A couple of nights into her stay, she climbed up into the top bunk and pushed another little girl out. Of course we talked to her about it, but she did it again the very next night – almost broke her collar bone."_

"The Great Rainone is in great denial," Catherine said, breaking the silence. "Of course … losing a child at the hands of another could do that to you. You do agree that Natalie killed Chloe, right?"

"Yeah," Grissom said thoughtfully. "I was just wondering what it must have looked like to her. Up in the tree house … looking down on everything … seeing her sister lying in a pool of blood …"

Catherine's eyes grew wide. "Like a miniature," she said softly. "The doll … the bloody doll in all the miniatures … Gil …"

"I know," he said. "We've got to get back to the lab, and we've got to call in the team."

* * *

As Sara had hoped, she was seated in Mimi's section. The waitress was excited to see Sara, and filled her in on the new man she was dating while Sara ate her dinner. After finishing her meal and leaving a generous tip, Sara made her way back to the parking garage. She was riding the elevator to the level where she had parked when her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and smiled at the name on the display.

"Hello, Gilbert," she said as she answered.

"Hey, we got an ID on the Miniature Killer," he said quickly, a clear sign that he was at work and not alone. "Her name's Natalie Davis."

"One of Ernie Dell's fosters?" The elevator stopped; Sara picked up her kit with her free hand and stepped out into the parking garage.

"Yeah. Catherine and I just spoke with the biological father; says he put Natalie up for adoption after she shoved her kid sister out of a tree house."

"Does he know where she is now?" Sara asked.

"No, but with a name, it's just a matter of time."

"All right, I'll be right there. I'll meet you at the lab."

Both deeply in "professional" mode, they hung up without another word. Sara transferred her cell phone to the hand carrying her kit and fished her keys from her pocket. She hit the button to unlock her car and popped her back hatch open. She dropped her phone into the car and put her kit down next to it.

"Sara?"

Without thinking, Sara looked up at the sound of her name. She turned, but barely had time to register the thin woman before a bright light illuminated her chest. Before she had a chance to realize what it meant, Taser barbs were in her chest, sending unimaginable pain through her. She fell to the ground, shaking uncontrollably.

Everything went black.


	96. Revenge

A/N: You're going to hate me for this, but I'm not sure I'll be able to update next weekend. I'm giving finals this week and in a wedding that will suck up my Friday and Saturday (as well as the majority of my week), so it'll be mission impossible to get another chapter done by the weekend. I'll try, though. If nothing else, I should be able to post midweek next week.

Thanks for reading and reviewing, and for your patience! I hope you enjoy this installment.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episodes 724, "Living Doll" and 801, "Dead Doll."

* * *

_Revenge_

"Okay," Catherine said, closing her phone as they walked into the lab, "Warrick and Greg are on their way. They were at a scene on the Strip, so it shouldn't be all that long."

"Nick had today off, but he said he'll be here," Grissom said. "Sara's on her way."

"Good. Meet you in the layout room?"

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "I just need to get some of my case notes."

"Great. I'll see you there."

They separated, each walking to a different office. Grissom opened his door and stepped into the dimly lit room.

He had barely taken two steps when he saw it. Eyes widening, he crossed the room slowly. _How …?_

A new miniature sat on his desk. The desert setting was home to an overturned car that covered a new doll. Only the doll's tiny arm and hand could be seen, the hand jumping as though controlled by a motor… _a micro-motor_ …

"_You just attach that to anything you want to animate,"_ Art had said. He had told Grissom that Natalie had bought the motor; he should have expected …

Feeling an intense sense of foreboding, Grissom grabbed a tissue from the box on his desk and used it to shield his hand as he pulled the car off the doll. It was a female, wearing jeans and a CSI vest. She had dark hair.

His heart stopped. _No … it can't be. I just talked to her. She's on her way here. She can't be … _He stood totally still, his eyes fixed on the movement of the doll's hand. It was _moving_ … it was _alive_ …

He grabbed his cell phone and hit Talk twice to redial Sara's number. It rang five times, then went to voicemail. He took a deep breath, trying to control his panic. Just because the doll likely represented her and she wasn't answering her phone …

"She could be in a dead zone," he rationalized. "Maybe the phone never rang on her end. Maybe …"

He tried to call her again, and again received no answer. His hands shook as he opened his phone again. This time, he selected a number from his contact list. This time, it only rang twice before it was answered.

"Brass."

"Jim, I need help," Grissom said desperately.

"What's wrong?" Brass asked.

"I got another miniature," Grissom said. "This one … Jim, the doll looks just like Sara. If this miniature is complete, she's under a car, out in the desert –"

"Whoa," Brass said, cutting him off. "Are you telling me that that psycho has Sara? That's she's …?" He couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

"I need you to find Sara, Jim," Grissom said. "She's not answering her cell phone."

"Okay," Brass said. "Is she on her way to work? Still at home? Out shopping?"

"I just talked to her a few minutes ago," Grissom said. "She was on her way here, but from the background noise, it sounded like she was in a parking structure. She … she probably stopped at that restaurant in the strip mall that she likes so much. She does that a lot before work."

"Okay," Brass said again, maintaining as much professionalism as he could. "I know the one you're talking about. I'll get some guys together and go over there. I'll find her for you."

Grissom exhaled. "Thanks, Jim."

"I'll keep you posted."

The phone clicked as Brass hung up. Grissom closed his phone slowly and bent down to look at the miniature again. He couldn't stop staring at the doll's tiny hand. Every movement it made gave him hope that Sara might not be dead, that she might still be alive … somewhere …

"Hey," Catherine said as she walked into his office. "The guys all just got here; I've already got them in the layout room. What's holding …?" She trailed off as her eyes fell on the miniature. "Where did you find this?" she asked, bending over to get a better look at it.

"It was here when we got back," Grissom said. "Just like this, on my desk …"

Catherine took the tissue from his hands and pulled the car back again to reveal the doll. She gasped.

"Gil! Is that –?"

"It's Sara."

"Oh, my God," Catherine exclaimed. "Have you tried to call her? Is she -?"

"She's not answering her cell phone."

The horror on Catherine's face somehow gave Grissom strength. In that moment, he realized that he didn't have to go through this alone. He had his team, and he knew that they would fight with everything in them to bring Sara home again. Feeling the terrified boyfriend fading away as the skilled investigator returned, he picked up the miniature and put it in Catherine's hands.

"Take this to the layout room and start processing it with the guys," he said. "I'm going to talk to Judy, to see who was in my office while we were gone. She was _here_, Cath. Not just anyone can get walk through the lab. She must …" Grissom trailed off into silence.

"I'm on it," Catherine said. "Let me know what you find."

"Yeah."

They left the office together to go their separate ways. As he walked back to the reception area, Grissom made one last desperate attempt to call Sara.

"Come on, Sara, pick up," he muttered. "_Please_ pick up." He slammed the phone closed when it again went to voicemail. He turned the corner and stopped in front of Judy's desk. "Who was in my office while I was gone?"

"No one," she said at once. "Just some girl from janitorial. She went in, vacuumed, emptied out the trash, that's all."

Grissom's mouth dropped open. _Janitorial_. The woman they had been hunting for months _worked in their lab_? He turned away from Judy without another word and returned to his office.

He went straight to his memo board, where the lab directory was tacked. He pulled it down and flipped through it until he found the number for the head of the janitorial department. He picked up his phone to call her, but it began to ring in his hand. _Brass_. Praying that the captain was calling to say that he had found Sara, safe and sound, Grissom opened the phone.

"Did you find her?"

"Hey, Gil, I found Sara's car," Brass said. "It was at the strip mall, like you thought."

"Is she …?"

"Sara's not here, Gil," Brass said as gently as possible. "She's gone, but her trunk is open, and her kit and phone are in it. Her keys are on the ground by the car." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry."

Grissom's heart seemed to stop beating, then to start again at five times its normal rate.

"Gil?"

"I'm here," Grissom said, swallowing thickly. "I … thanks, Jim."

"Gil, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I just need to call this woman … Judy said the only person in my office while I was gone was a woman from janitorial. I need to call them, to see if they can tell me who she is. We may have found our Miniature Killer."

Even saying the words felt empty. What difference did it make if they found the killer? All that mattered was Sara. All that mattered was finding her, and bringing her home safely.

* * *

"Oh, shut _up_," Warrick said as Catherine walked into the layout room with the miniature in her hands. "_Another_ one?"

"Yeah," Catherine said. "Yeah, but, guys … this time …"

"This time, what?" Greg asked as she set it on the table.

"This time, the doll's moving," Nick said, staring at the moving hand as though hypnotized.

"There's that," Catherine agreed. "But, what I was going to say is, this time, the doll represents Sara."

Ringing silence followed her words as the three men stared at her. Warrick was the one to finally break it.

"How do you know?"

Catherine covered her hand with a glove and lifted up the car. They stared at the brunette CSI doll in shock.

Without a word, Nick stepped away from the table and opened a drawer. He pulled out four magnifying glasses, and handed one to each of his coworkers. They took them and leaned in to begin looking for clues. Silence ruled as they studied the tiny scene.

* * *

Red light. Pain.

When Sara could open her eyes again, the first thing she saw was red light. The first thing she felt was a terrible pain in her shoulders and arms. She was dimly surprised to realize that both arms were twisted behind her back. Still fighting off the fogginess that ruled her head, she instinctively tried to move to a more comfortable position.

She couldn't.

Confusion reigned for a moment as she twisted, trying to see what held her hands. She couldn't see much from her position lying on her side, but from what she could feel, they were bound together by zip tie. She struggled against it for a moment, trying futilely to free herself.

_What the hell …? _

She looked around the confined space, trying to determine where she was. Her eyes fell on an emergency sign that gave instructions for getting out of the trunk of a car. With a sinking feeling, she looked up and then to the side. She saw all that she needed to confirm that she was, indeed, in the trunk of a car.

Her heart seemed to stop, then immediately speed up in a burst of adrenaline. _Oh, no. I am _not_ going to die like this._

She looked down at her vest, thinking of all the things in her pockets that probably could have been used to help her escape. _Nick would have something accessible. He's such a Boy Scout like that._

Her eyes shot to her shoulder, and fell on the Taser barb that was still stuck in her vest. Her eyes lit up. She tipped her chin down and to the side, trying desperately to capture the small metal barb with her teeth. She managed to pluck it from her vest quicker than she would have anticipated, and spat it down behind her, trying to get it as close to her hands as possible.

She twisted around, letting her hands feel their way across the floor, trying to find the barb. Her fingers finally closed around it. She angled it up to the clasp of the zip tie, and, in one of the more frustrating things she had ever done, used it to break the clasp. Her hands finally free, she felt a fresh jolt of adrenaline shoot through her.

Escaping seemed like the most rational thing to do. Following the directions on the emergency latch, she opened the trunk enough to see outside. Unfortunately, all she discovered was that jumping was not a possibility. The stripes in the road were practically flying past; she'd never be able to hit the ground without causing herself grave injury.

_Okay. One plan down._

She pulled the trunk closed again, and began searching for a new means of escape. This time, she found a speaker that looked loose.

_Perfect!_

Pulling it out was easy enough, and, in a stroke of luck, it was torn on the other side. She peered through it, and caught sight of Natalie driving the car. _No surprises there._ She reached through the opening and grabbed the back of the seat in front of her. She pulled it down slowly, not wanting to make any noise that would attract Natalie's attention.

Finally creating an opening large enough to fit through, she slid from the trunk into the backseat of the car. Her movement must have attracted Natalie's attention; she took her eyes off the road to glance back.

Sara lunged.

The two women struggled, Natalie trying desperately to maintain control of the car while Sara fought to incapacitate her. Finally gaining enough leverage to throw herself at Natalie, Sara pulled the girl's hair to get her closer, then grabbed her head and slammed it into the driver's side window with enough force to break the glass. Natalie righted herself quickly enough and straightened out the car's path.

Thinking that she had slowed down enough to make jumping safe, Sara opened the back door and jumped out of the car. Although she did her best to roll as she hit the ground, she heard an ominous crack from her arm as she landed on it.

Moaning in pain, she was vaguely aware of the sound of the car stopping. Hearing it turn, she looked to the side. Headlights were coming at her.

Strangely, it wasn't fear that filled her as the car drove straight toward her. Rather, it was resignation. _I tried so hard, Gil. I really did. _

To her surprise, the car stopped in front of her before it could make impact. Illuminated by the headlights, Natalie got out of the car and crouched down in front of her.

She was the last thing Sara saw before blackness took over again.

* * *

The next thing Sara felt was water rushing over her face. She coughed and tried to turn her head, but the water followed her. Still coughing, she managed to open her eyes.

She was in the car again, but this time, she was sitting on the floor in the backseat. Her hands were once again bound with a zip tie, but this time, they were in front of her. For some reason, being able to see them gave her a measure of comfort.

And, there was Natalie, forcing her to drink from a water bottle. Sara gave her the dirtiest look she could muster as Natalie poured the last of the water in the direction of Sara's mouth. She tossed the bottle down and climbed back into the front seat to begin driving again.

_Keep her talking. _Everything in her training told Sara that she needed to talk to Natalie, to get her to reveal as much of her plans as she could.

"Natalie," she said.

Natalie looked back at her in the rearview mirror.

"Natalie Davis," Sara said, repeating the name that Grissom had told her over the phone. "I know who you are," she said. "I know a _lot_ about you. You make miniatures."

With a flash of memory, and something like triumph, Sara realized that she had met this woman before. "I've seen you before, right?" she asked. "You work in the lab, in the cleaning crew."

Natalie didn't confirm her words, but Sara knew she was right. She remembered introducing herself to her.

"_I'm sorry!" Sara exclaimed. "I didn't see you."_

"_It's okay," the woman said without really making eye contact._

"_Are you new?" Sara asked. _

"_Sort of."_

_Thinking that this woman's social skills were even worse than hers, Sara decided to give it one last try. "What's your name?"_

"_Natalie."_

"_Natalie," Sara repeated. "I'm Sara. It's nice to meet you. Welcome to the lab."_

"_Thank you."_

Thinking that Grissom and Greg had been right to make fun of her for cozying up to a woman who had turned out to be a serial killer, Sara steered her thoughts away from that moment in her recent past and to her present.

"So sorry about hitting you back there," she said slowly. "I guess … I have a fear of trunks. In my business, you only find one thing in them." She chuckled at her own attempt at humor, but Natalie remained emotionless.

"We actually have a lot in common," Sara continued, wondering vaguely if Grissom and Greg would appreciate her renewed attempts to befriend this woman. "I was a foster kid, too."

This captured Natalie's attention; she looked back at Sara again.

"Happy, happy, joy, joy," Sara said. Her face twisted with painful memories of her past. "I do know what it's like to be alone. Afraid that nobody's ever going to be there for you."

"Ernie was," Natalie nearly whispered.

"Yes, he was," Sara agreed. "That's true, Natalie." She paused. "I lost my father, too," she confessed. It wasn't exactly the same, but still … "I know that Ernie loved you," Sara continued. "He would not have wanted you to do this."

"Ernie loved me more than Grissom could ever love you," Natalie said.

"Grissom?" Sara repeated. Suddenly, everything slid into place. Grissom had taken Ernie from Natalie, so Natalie would take Sara from Grissom. "Oh, I know what this is about," she said, her eyes sliding closed. She struggled to open them, but found her vision blurring. "Natalie? What did you put in the water, Natalie? Huh?"

Again, she succumbed to blackness.

* * *

"There has to be something," Warrick said a bit desperately. "I can't believe we don't have a single clue."

"The doll's still alive," Greg said, his voice tinged with hope. "That means Sara's still alive."

"Generic stretch of desert?" Nick said, his voice just as hopeless as Greg's had been hopeful. "She could be anywhere in a four-state radius."

"Let's just … focus on the details," Catherine said, trying to break the depressed mood that followed Nick's words. "There's always something to go on."

"She has to make these in advance, right?" Warrick asked. "How do you plan a car wreck? There's no way to know how the car's going to land." His eyes widened with dawning understanding. "Unless you wreck the car _first_, and then put her under it."

"Hey, I think I've got a VIN number," Nick said in shock.

"Give me the first six," Greg said, already putting down his magnifying glass and moving to the computer.

"King, Sam, Victor, four, five, three."

Greg keyed the numbers into the data base as Grissom walked into the room with a case folder in his hands.

"Her name is Natalie Davis, and she works for our janitorial service," he announced.

"What?" Warrick asked, looking both shocked and disgusted.

"Here? In the lab?" Catherine asked, her voice shaded with both shock and desperation. How could they have been so close and yet still …?

"For over a month," Grissom confirmed. "She's never been arrested, so there's nothing to flag on a security check. She used Ernie Dell's address on her work form, she has no home phone and no driver's license."

"Okay, I got it," Greg said as the computer gave him the information he needed. "A 2007 red Mustang, totaled outside the Trip Wire bar six weeks ago. Driver fatality, DWI, car went to scrap … Lead CSI on the case, Sara Sidle."

Everyone stared at Greg. He had given them so much information, but none of it made sense.

"Pull up the case photos," Grissom said.

Greg did as he asked, enlarging one at random. Sara and Grissom were both in the picture, standing across from each other. Between them, among the crowd, stood Natalie. Grissom's mouth dropped open, and he did a double take between the work card picture in his hands and the picture on the computer screen.

"My God," he nearly whispered. "She was at the crime scene."

"So, she salvages the car, and somehow gets it out to the desert, and grabs Sara, and puts her under it?" Nick asked incredulously. _None of this makes any _sense_!_

"I don't get it," Warrick said. "What does Sara have to do with bleach?"

"I don't know," Catherine said. "It just feels different."

Grissom looked at the crime scene photos again, trying to remember the case, trying to think of something that Natalie had seen … It came back to him, and he felt sick.

"_Okay," Grissom said, giving Sara a smile, "what do you want me to do?"_

"_How about photo documenting?" she suggested. _

"_I'd love to," he replied. "May I use your camera?"_

"_Where's yours?"_

"_In the truck."_

"_Oh, that's just lazy."_

"_I know. But, may I?" _

_Without even giving Sara time to reply, he reached for the camera strap that was slung over her shoulder. As he slid it down to take her camera, he let his hand trail down her arm. Sara looked down at the flipped car to hide her smile. _

"_We have an audience, you know," she said, speaking to the ground._

"_There here to see the wrecked car, not us," Grissom replied. "I'm not even sure we're a sideshow to this one."_

He had been wrong. Not everyone had been there to see the car. Natalie had been there to see them … and she had seen far too much. In that one moment, that one innocent caress of Sara's arm, she had realized the depth of his feelings for Sara.

"It is different," Grissom said, speaking as though hypnotized, as though totally to himself, despite team gathered around him. "This girl holds me responsible for the death of Ernie Dell. I took away the only person she ever loved, so she's going to do the same thing to me."

Catherine's head came up, her face stunned. Warrick, too, looked at Grissom in shock. Nick's eyebrows drew together. Greg's eyes darted between them all.

"It's not about a psychotic reaction to bleach, or some dead sister, or a doll …" Grissom trailed off, then looked at Catherine, finally speaking to someone other than himself. "Not your little bisque doll."

With those cryptic words, he practically ran from the room.

"What the hell did he just say?" Warrick asked.

"That he loves Sara," Greg said quietly.

"How do you think he meant that?" Nick asked.

"Exactly as it sounded," Greg mumbled, speaking to the computer screen.

Catherine looked at Greg for a minute, then picked up her magnifying glass again. "Come on, guys. Grissom's personal life isn't going to help us find Sara."

* * *

Grissom went back into his office and sat down at his computer. He pulled up an auction site that sold miniature items. One of the sellers stood out in his memory. He scrolled through the list until he found the one he wanted – her screen name was "noturlittlebisquedoll."

He knew exactly how to find her.

* * *

When Sara fought her way out of the black fog again, she was lying facedown on the ground. She could hear grinding metal above her.

"Natalie?" she asked, feeling panic rise in her again. "Natalie, what are you doing?"

She looked around wildly, and realized exactly what was happening. A car was being lowered down on her. She was going to be crushed.

"Natalie? What are you doing?" she asked again. She screamed in pain as her broken arm was trapped under the car. "Don't do this!"

The car reached the ground and stopped moving. Aside from her arm, Sara wasn't being crushed by it. Natalie gave a satisfied smile, and turned to walk away.

"Natalie?" Sara exclaimed, realizing that her captor was leaving her with no means of escape. "Natalie! _Natalie_!"

Natalie climbed into her car and drove away.

Sara allowed herself a brief moment of panic. _What am I going to do? Oh, God, what am I going to do?_

_You are going to wait. You are _not_ going to panic. Think of Nicky. He held it together. You can, too._

Nick had, indeed, held himself together when he had been trapped by a madman with no way out. He had stayed in that coffin for hours upon hours until they had found him and pulled him to safety.

_They'll find you, too. They've missed you by now. You told Gil you were on your way to the lab. He'll know you aren't there when you said you'd be, and he'll find you._

The panic started to ebb. Gil would find her. He'd find her, and he'd find a way to get the car off her, just like he had found a way to pull Nick out of the explosive-rigged coffin. She'd be fine.

She was just managing to even out her breathing when an animal came into view. As it drew closer, she realized she was looking at a coyote. She held as still as possible as it ducked its head to sniff at her fingers. Its head came level with hers as it looked her in the eye.

Animal lover though she was, Sara was terrified. She held her breath and the coyote's eyes until it decided she wasn't worth its time and walked away.

Sara started to breathe again. _You can do this. You're fine. Just breathe, Sara. In and out. In and out. Like when you and Mary took that yoga class during grad school. Focus your breath. _

Focusing on her breathing worked; she felt calmer.

Then, she heard a ping against the car. She looked around, trying to see what was happening. It didn't take long to realize that the skies above her were opening.

It was raining.

* * *

"Okay," Warrick said, scrubbing his hands over his face. "So, we know why she took Sara. We know what she tried to recreate. But … we're going to need a lot more than that."

"The more the _why_, the less the _how_," Nick said. "Remember when Grissom always used to say that?"

"I've told you before that Grissom can be wrong about that," Catherine said. "The why could get us to the how."

"I've got her address," Grissom announced as he walked into the room. "Sofia and some unis are going to get her."

"I'm going, too," Nick said at once.

"Me, too," Warrick agreed.

"Okay," Grissom said. "Good luck."

Nick and Warrick left without another word.

"Brass found Sara's car," Grissom said to Catherine and Greg. "Would you two -?"

"We're on it," Catherine said. "Come on, Greg."

"Yeah," Greg agreed. He gave Grissom a small, encouraging smile before leaving.

Catherine stopped and put her hand on Grissom's forearm. "We'll find her, Gil. We found Nicky went some lunatic took him. We'll find Sara, too."

Grissom looked at her, all the despair he felt shining in his eyes. "We have to," he said. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

"You won't have to find out." Catherine's grip on his arm tightened. "We'll find her."


	97. Believe

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. Between my friend's wedding, ending the year, moving to a new classroom, and my grandmother's health problems (she's finally fine and home again!), I barely had time to sleep for the past couple weeks. I really hope this chapter is worth the wait. I'm pleased with the way it turned out, and I hope you'll like it, too.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are taken from episodes 724, "Living Doll" and 801, "Dead Doll."

* * *

_Believe_

Grissom sat alone in the layout room, watching the hypnotic twitching of the doll's hand. He forced aside the despair that threatened to overwhelm him. Despair left no room for hope, and the miniature offered plenty of hope. As Greg had said, if the doll was alive, that meant that Sara was alive. Natalie was nothing if not a slave to honest, accurate detail.

_But, what if …?_

Even if Sara had been alive when Natalie left her under the car, there was no telling what had happened since. The car could have crushed her, the elements could have been too much, Natalie could have given her some sort of drug …

The possibilities were endless, they were frightening, and they were going to drive Grissom out of his mind.

His phone vibrated, making him jump in surprise. He grabbed it eagerly, almost dropping it in his haste. Disappointment flooded through him as he saw Brass's name on the display. He opened the phone to read the text message he had sent.

_She's here._

His face set with grim determination, Grissom left the lab. He had a meeting at PD.

* * *

_It can't rain this hard for long._

Sara blinked as the memory of her father's oft-repeated phrase floated through her mind. Every time they had experienced a hard, punishing rain, he had been the first to assert that it wouldn't be able to keep up for long. As a child, Sara had always believed him.

Life in Vegas, however, had taught her differently. Rain could come down incredibly hard for a long time in the desert, causing flash flooding and loss of property and life. Her mind flew back in time, to a case from the first few years after she had joined Grissom's team. Nick had been baffled by the drowning death of a young woman who had been found in the very dry desert. He discovered that she had been hiking in a canyon when a flash flood had killed her and swept her body from the canyon into the open desert.

Sara lifted her head, looking around at the rain water that was beginning to rush under the car, soaking her as it created tiny rivers all around her. She shook her head.

"No," she whispered. "No, that won't happen. It … it can't rain this hard for long."

* * *

Brass met Grissom at the main entrance of PD, his own face just as grim as his friend's.

"Sofia said Natalie Davis ran when she heard them coming, but Nick and Warrick caught up with her," he said. "They stayed to search her apartment. Sofia brought Natalie in. She's in interrogation right now."

"Good," Grissom replied.

They walked silently down the halls, stopping in the observation room. Natalie was sitting at the table, obviously in her own little world. They watched her for a moment before Brass broke the silence.

"I don't want to waste time screwing around with this nutcase," he said. "I'm going to get some bleach, and drip it on her until she gives up the location. They can't accuse us of police brutality for that."

Grissom barely heard Brass. He was lost in thought, formulating a plan to get Sara's location out of Natalie. He turned to look at the other man. "I want to talk to her, Jim. Alone."

Brass raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

"I'm sure."

"Gil …"

"This is about _me_, Jim. Not Sara." He shrugged slightly. "If it's me she wants, it's me she gets."

Brass exhaled. "Okay. I'll be right here, watching."

Grissom nodded and walked away from him. He opened the door and stepped into the room.

"Hi, Natalie," he said gently, genially. He stopped at the table, resting his fingertips on the back of the empty chair in front of him. "My name's Gil. It's so nice to finally meet you." He glanced back at the observation window, wondering if Brass thought he had lost his mind. "I, uh, probably shouldn't say this, but I'm a _huge_ fan."

This captured Natalie's attention; she finally looked up at him.

"I've been a crime scene investigator for twenty-two years, I've worked over two thousand homicides," Grissom continued, "and you are by _far_ the best I've ever seen."

His flattery was working; Natalie's face was relaxing. Seeing how comfortable she had become, he pulled out the chair and sat down.

"I mean," he said, "you're such a great artist. And, to be so young, and so talented, and … so pretty …"

Natalie gave a slight smile.

"I've thought about you every night for the last nine months," Grissom continued, hoping that Natalie construed his comment to be flirtatious. Catherine had always told him he had "no game," and even Sara would chuckle at some of his attempts to flirt with her. He hoped he could fool Natalie.

"I even tried to do what you do," he added. "I built my own miniature."

Natalie nodded, and Grissom's eyebrows shot up.

"You saw it?"

She nodded again.

"How did I do?"

She shrugged and smiled.

"Do you play chess?" Grissom asked.

Natalie shook her head.

"I play," he said. "As a hobby. Quiets my mind, you know? It soothes me. At one point, I became so _consumed_ by it that whenever I closed my eyes, I could see the chess pieces moving all around the board. I was _obsessed_ with correcting all my bad moves. I wondered if a game could ever be played without a mistake. I'd love to play you sometime."

Natalie tilted her head to the side and smiled, silently flirting back. Grissom felt a surge of triumph.

"I'm so impressed with the way you embrace your passion," he said. "You'd make a great CSI." He paused. It was time to get some answers. "This last one was brilliant. You studied our crime scene so well, tracking our car to the junk yard and then towing it all the way out to the desert where you knew we wouldn't find it." He smiled at her, hoping that he'd be able to keep his charade going. _Just a little longer …_ "And, then … the way you killed Sara …"

"No," Natalie whispered. "I didn't kill her."

Grissom's eyes lit up. "You didn't?"

Natalie shook her head, watching him. "This is about her," she said. "Her, her, _her_! It's always about _her_!"

"No, it isn't, Natalie, it's about you," Grissom said, mentally berating himself for showing any sign of interest in Sara's wellbeing.

Natalie looked away from him and began singing to herself. Grissom's eyes widened. _Oh, God. I'm losing her. I'm losing her._

"Natalie, listen to me," he said calmly, firmly, hoping to snap her back into the conversation. "Tell me where she is. Natalie, please tell me where Sara is."

She continued singing, staring at a point on the floor. Grissom felt his frustration, his anger, and the despair he had fought all night rising to the surface.

The pressure was too much. He snapped.

"Stop it!" he yelled. He grabbed Natalie by the shoulders and began shaking her. "Just stop this! _Tell me where Sara is_!"

She continued singing, apparently oblivious to his actions. He released her and sat back, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as horror filled him. _My God. What have I done?_

The door was thrown open, and Brass burst in.

"Gil?"

Grissom looked up at him and shook his head, swallowing the wave of nausea that swept over him. "I … I need to get back to the lab. Catherine … went to process Sara's car …"

"Let me drive you," Brass said.

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Brass said. "Right now, I don't expect you to be. Let me take you –"

"No," Grissom interrupted. "You stay here with her. If she snaps out of this, she might tell us something."

Brass looked at the girl who was still singing and shook his head. "I've already called a shrink in to look at her. I don't think we're going to get any sense out of her for awhile. But, just in case, I'll have Sofia stay with her until I get back."

Feeling a bit more reassured, Grissom nodded. "Let's go."

They walked out of the interrogation room, and Brass's cell phone began to ring.

"Hang on a second," he said.

Grissom nodded, waiting while Brass stepped away to take the call. Grissom took advantage of the time to work on breathing normally again. After several deep breaths, he felt calmer. He was once again in control of himself. Brass rejoined him a moment later, pocketing his phone.

"I just got off the horn with Search and Rescue," he said. "We have three choppers in the air with night vision and IR. Now, the weather's getting cooler, so a warm body will be easy to find."

"If Sara's under the car, the metal will conceal her," Grissom said.

"Maybe she got out," Brass suggested.

Grissom's attention was captured by the weather report that was showing on the television in the waiting area. He walked into the room, watching in horror as the forecaster explained that the convergence of storms over Las Vegas meant that eight inches of rain were expected.

"Gil?"

"I need to get back to the lab," he said. "_Now_."

* * *

Water rushed all around her. The tiny rivers merged together to create a constant torrent of water that seemed to come faster with each moment.

Sara gasped as it rose up enough to reach the place where she had rested her head. She lifted as much of her torso as she could, twisting to look around her.

"It's not stopping," she said. "It's … oh, God, I've got to get out of here. _Now_."

* * *

"Is Catherine back yet?" Grissom asked Judy as he walked into the lab.

"Not yet, sir."

He nodded in brief acknowledgement of her answer, and hurried down the hall. He grabbed a beaker, and filled it with water. Careful not to spill it, he went to the layout room, where the miniature was still on the table. He leaned down and poured the water onto the scene, simulating a flash flood.

The doll was submerged quickly. Moments later, its hand stopped moving.

Grissom stared at it, feeling the now-familiar sensation of his heart speeding up and pounding in his ears.

_We need to find her. We need to find her _now_._

* * *

Sara began trying to move her limbs, experimenting with the quickest way of freeing herself. Her right arm had not been pinned under the car; that was easy. Her feet were both freed by kicking strongly against the car.

Her left arm, however, was a different story. It was held tightly between the car and the ground. Sara gritted her teeth as she tried repeatedly to yank it out.

_You'd think all this water would soften the ground enough to make this happen_. She screamed in frustration as she tried once again to pull it free. _Oh, God. It's not sand or clay or dirt … it's a _rock_._

She looked up at the car, trying to find something that she could use as leverage or a hammer. Not seeing anything, she threw her entire weight into pulling her arm free. The rock shifted slightly, but she barely realized it as she felt her arm break.

She gave a gasping sob as pain shot through her. The water was rising quickly, her arm was still trapped, and now it had broken for the second time in one night.

She sobbed again, wondering if there was any way her situation could become grimmer.

* * *

"Griss! They're towing Natalie's car to the garage. Want to process it with me?"

Grissom tore his eyes from the miniature to look at Warrick. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I do."

"Good."

Grissom frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be at Natalie's apartment with Nick?"

"I left to process the car," he said. "Nick's still there. He promised he wouldn't leave until he found something."

"Hey, guys," Greg said as he joined them. "I got the surveillance tapes from the garage where Brass found Sara's car. Archie and I are going to start going over them."

"Good," Grissom said. "Did Catherine come back with you?"

"She's processing the scene."

"Good," Grissom said again. He looked at Warrick. "Let's process the car."

* * *

_I need to get out of here _right now_!_

The water had risen so far that Sara could barely keep her head above water. She knew that she couldn't get her arm out of its trap just by pulling on it. She needed something … anything …

She took a deep breath and plunged her head under water, eyes open, searching for something she could use to shift the rock. She could see the rearview mirror. She reached for it, but the pain in her lungs was greater than her ability to pull it free. She raised her head above water to take a giant breath, grabbing the mirror as she gasped for air. She yanked the mirror from its place on the windshield and pulled it above water.

Another deep breath, and then she ducked back under. She attacked the rock holding her arm with the mirror, trying to shift it enough to be able to move her arm. When she resurfaced, she tried to pull her arm free, but found it still held fast in place. Taking another gulp of air, she submerged again; she used the mirror to dig at the softer ground under the rock.

It worked; the ground shifted enough for the rock to slide down. Sara pulled her arm free. _Thank God!_

She allowed herself a brief triumphant smile, then nearly swam out from under the car. Her CSI vest caught on something, but she barely noticed as it pulled from her. It could stay under the car. She had others.

She climbed out from under the car, clutching her arm to her body, trying to keep it as still as possible. She turned on unsteady legs to look at the car.

_Take that, you bitch. Bet you didn't think I'd be able to get out of your trap._

She looked around, realizing how much lower her current position was than the desert around her. The rain was still coming down hard; she needed to get to higher ground before she found herself caught in an even more devastating flood. She began to walk away from the car, stumbling slightly.

She was so unsteady on her feet. She paused and looked back at the car. Grissom and the others would be looking for the car. If they found it, but not her … Maybe she should stay with the car …

She looked again at the pond that was quickly forming around the car. Her decision was made in an instant.

"Higher ground," she whispered. "Get to higher ground."

Grissom and the team would know that she needed to get out of danger. They'd find her. Or, maybe, if she walked far enough, she'd find them first.

* * *

Grissom felt as though they had barely begun processing the car when information began flying at them. Nick called to tell him about Natalie's online map searches. Warrick found the mileage of the car's last trip. Greg determined which direction Natalie had turned when she left the parking garage. Hodges identified the plant specimens they collected from the car and found the area where they overlapped.

Yet, with so much information, Brass and his team still could not find Sara. The search area was too great, the night was too dark, and the rain was too intense. It felt so … hopeless.

Grissom stood in the garage, staring out at the rain without really seeing it, thinking of Sara's hand on his cheek, offering comfort after a difficult case. _"Chalk,"_ she had said, excusing the intimate gesture with a shrug.

_She didn't want to be accused of sexually harassing her boss. That was so long ago. That was before we were … _us_. _

Grissom sighed. They both knew that the chalk – _if there was any_ – had nothing to do with her hand against his cheek. And, now …

He wanted to feel that hand again. He wanted to feel that comfort again. He wanted to see that smile again.

_You _will_. Catherine's right. We'll find her. _

Filled with renewed determination, he went back to work.

* * *

Sara's stumbling steps became steadier as she got farther away from the car. She finally managed to reach a point high enough that the chances of falling victim to a flash flood were slim and sat down on a rock to consider her options.

"I could stay here like a princess, waiting to be rescued," she muttered. "Why, though? What's the point in that? How will they ever find me? The desert is massive, and I don't have a bright red car to signal my location anymore."

She shook her head. She'd keep walking. Eventually, she'd come upon a highway or a town or a road. Eventually, she'd find civilization. Eventually, she'd make it home.

* * *

Nick had done plenty of hopeless things in his life. He had seen plenty of hopeless things in his career as a CSI. Yet, somehow, he managed to retain his attitude of optimism. He knew that it made Grissom worry about him, worry that he'd burn out too quickly, that he'd find himself unable to do his job. But, he knew better. Optimism was a shield. It kept the horrors of the job from becoming too real, the death, pain and suffering from becoming all-consuming. Optimism was what brought him back every day, ready to fight the evil in the world so the good would have its proper chance to thrive.

But, after hours and hours spent in Natalie's apartment with nothing aside from several random desert locations to help them find Sara, Nick felt his optimism slipping. As the first rays of sun peeked through Natalie's pathetic windows, letting him know exactly how long he had been there, fear and despair threatened to overwhelm him.

He gave a yell of frustration and kicked Natalie's bed before sinking down onto it. As he let the dark thoughts of the increasingly real possibility that they'd never see Sara again take over, his mind flew back to the case he and worked with her, Greg and Warrick in Pioche. The house filled with blood but no bodies had been enough to convince everyone that the entire family had been killed. Nick had been the only one to hold out hope of finding anyone alive.

He remembered sitting on a park bench, listening as Sara gently reminded him that in their job, finding a body was far more likely than finding a person.

_Nick shrugged. "I was rescued."_

"_It was not your day to die," Sara said. "When it's your day … it's your day. You know?"_

Tears filled Nick's eyes. He looked around the room, trying to find something to distract him. His eyes fell on the pictures tacked up on Natalie's bulletin board. He got up to look closer at them, realizing that they were both sketches of Sara.

He screwed up his face against the tears that wanted to slide from his eyes. Sara had been there for him more times than he could remember. She had been one of his best friends since moving to Vegas. He couldn't stand the idea …

_It's not your day, Sara. We won't let it be._

He frowned slightly as he noticed something written in the corner of one of the pictures. Leaning closer, he read the name and number of a tow yard.

_No … Can it be that easy?_

Nick abandoned the bulletin board and grabbed the file from the case Grissom and Sara had worked with the totaled Mustang. He scanned the documents until he found the name of the tow yard that had taken the car.

_It _can_ be that easy._

* * *

The sun was hot almost from the first moment its rays touched Sara's face. She sighed, knowing that she was going to wind up with sunburn. There was no way the SPF moisturizer she had put on over twenty-four hours before was still working.

"Protect your head," she muttered to herself, thinking of the number of times she had suffered with a burned scalp.

She sat down on a rock and took off her button down shirt, thankful she had worn a shirt under it. Working slowly, careful of her broken arm, she managed to tear it into two pieces. She picked up the smaller piece and wrapped it around her head, hoping that the thin material would offer some protection from the sun's rays.

She looked at the second piece for a moment, gauging if it would be big enough for a sling. Deciding that there was nothing to be lost in trying, she began the rather painful process of tying it into a sling with only one hand and her teeth to help her.

With both tasks completed, she ran her hand over her head and looked down at her arm. She smiled at her own brilliance.

"Not bad. Now, if only I had some water …"

Deciding that thinking about it would only make the problem worse, she picked up the mirror that had saved her life with her good hand, got up from her rock, and began walking again.

"Keep going," she muttered to herself. "You've got to meet Gil halfway."

* * *

"You're kidding, right?" Greg said as Nick walked into the lab with a jubilant smile. "It was that easy?"

Nick laughed. "Yeah. We were knocking ourselves out, but the answer was right in front of us the whole time."

"I just heard from Brass," Grissom said as he joined them. "He talked to the guy at the tow yard, and he's got a location – or, at least, the closest we've come to a location. We're sending squad cars, choppers –"

"I want to go in the chopper," Greg interrupted.

"Good," Grissom said. "I want one of us in the air. Go to PD now. Brass will get you on it."

Greg nodded and nearly ran out the door.

"I called Catherine," Grissom continued. "She's meeting us there."

"Am I driving?" Nick asked.

"No," Grissom replied. "You're riding shotgun. Let's go."

Never had Nick experienced anything as tense as riding to Sara's rescue with Grissom. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles and drove at speeds that had Nick clutching his seatbelt. The idea of conversation was laughable. Neither one could have formulated a single coherent sentence.

Nick glanced at Grissom as he took a turn too quickly and the SUV jarred from side to side. Grissom barely noticed; he was totally focused on following the car in front of him.

"Come on," he muttered. "Faster. _Faster_."

Watching him, Nick finally, truly got it. Grissom did love Sara. He loved her so much that the idea of ever living without her was totally unthinkable. So much that he was nearly out of his mind knowing that she was in danger.

Nick set his jaw. They'd find her. They had to. Too many lives would be destroyed if they didn't.

The radio crackled to life with the voice of the helicopter pilot. He and Greg had spotted the car.

Grissom jumped in his seat and pressed his foot harder against the accelerator. Their car was one of the first to arrive; Grissom and Nick were both out of it almost before it was in park. They ran the last few yards to the red Mustang, their hearts sinking as they saw that it was nearly buried in dirt and sand. It had obviously been hit by one of the flash floods the forecasters had warned would strike the desert. The two men immediately began shifting the dirt, trying to free Sara from her prison.

"Sara!" Grissom yelled as he dug. "_Sara_!"

Nick dug frantically, shoving dirt out of his way. As he began to see more of the car, he realized that it wasn't dirt that was running through his hands. He looked down and saw Sara's CSI vest. He picked it up slowly, rubbing the dirt away from her name.

Grissom, realizing that his colleague's movements had slowed, looked at him. He looked down at the vest, his eyes trained on the SIDLE stitched into it. He exhaled slowly.

"I think … she's not here," Nick said. "If she took her vest off, it was probably holding her under the car. She probably …"

Nausea welled up inside of Grissom. "Unless …"

"Don't think that way," Nick cautioned.

Grissom shook his head. "Nicky, even if she did get out, she was here. And, if she's not here anymore, where is she?"

"I know Sara's not going down without a fight," Nick said. "She knew she was in trouble with all that water, and she got out."

Grissom swallowed hard. "We need to make sure."

Nick nodded. "I'll get some shovels."

"I'm going to start looking around. See if there's any indication she did get out."

"Grissom."

Grissom stopped and looked at Nick.

"She got out. I know it. Sara wouldn't give up." He paused. "We can't give up, either."

Grissom nodded, and began slowly walking around the perimeter of the car. Nick went back to the SUV to radio the others, explaining that Sara wasn't in the car.

"We'll keep looking from the sky," came back almost immediately.

Nick nodded and looked up at the chopper above him, waving in acknowledgement.

"Okay," Brass said as he joined him. "We've already got crews here ready to take the car. Do you want to dig around it first?"

Nick nodded.

"I'll have some of my guys help you." He looked at Grissom, who was looking into a scrub brush as though it held the answers to all his questions. "How's he holding up?"

"Scared," Nick said.

"Yeah," Brass agreed. "We all are."

Nick nodded. "He just stands to lose more."

Brass cleared his throat. "Okay. Let's get that car moved. We need to be able to tell him for sure that Sara's not under it."

With a half-smile, Nick grabbed a shovel from the back of the SUV.

* * *

The sun was so hot. Even after living in Las Vegas for seven years, Sara had not realized how very hot it could be.

"Think cool thoughts," she muttered. "Think of driving with Gil and how he blasts the AC. Think of the house after a run with Hank. Think of the snow in Boston. Think cool thoughts."

She continued walking, stumbling slightly.

"So hard to walk," she muttered. "You'll be home soon. Probably almost there now."

She came to what she was sure was a mountain. The rocky dune towered above the desert around her. She looked at it for a moment, thinking of all that she'd be able to see from its summit.

"Get to the top," she muttered. "Then you'll know where you are."

She began to climb with slow, deliberate steps. It seemed to take forever to reach the top. She tucked her mirror into her pocket, afraid that it would slip from her hands.

She finally reached the top. Seeing a boulder that appeared to offer the best vantage point, she climbed it, using her good arm to help pull herself up. She crawled onto it and swayed as she pulled herself into a standing position. Hope bubbled up within her as she began to look around.

Her face fell. Desert met her eyes. Desert stretched as far as she could see. Unbroken by any roads or even paths, the desert was all that surrounded her.

Despair filled her. She wasn't almost home. She wasn't almost _anywhere_.

"Keep going," she muttered to herself again. "It's just going to take a while longer, that's all. Keep going."

She crawled down from the boulder and began to make her way down the opposite side of the dune. Going down was far faster than going up; she stumbled as her feet began to move too quickly for her body. After a few staggering steps, she began to fall, tumbling over herself as she slid to the bottom.

She choked back a sob as pain shot through her arm. Allowing herself only a moment of self-pity, she clambered to her feet and began to walk away.

* * *

Catherine arrived at the scene. Grissom knew she was there; he could hear her talking to Nick. He had no idea what they were saying. His attention was totally taken by what he could see in front of him.

"Catherine!" he yelled. "I've got shoe prints!"

Elated, he scanned the horizon. He didn't see Sara, but her prints went as far as he could see. He took out his binoculars to get a better look; still, she was nowhere to be found.

Catherine was at his side in a second, following his sight line to see the prints that led away from the car.

"She got out from under that car," she said to him. Raising her voice to talk to the others, she continued, "Okay, everyone, listen up! We're searching on foot!"

Grissom began to follow the trail, thankful that Catherine was there to make sure that everyone did their jobs. He knew that he should have been the one issuing orders, but he just couldn't. Sara was all that mattered, and he needed to find her.

Catherine caught up with him quickly, following the footprints. "How far do you think she could have gone?" she asked.

"I have no idea," Grissom replied. "God, Catherine, we don't know anything about what Natalie did to her. She could have –"

"Sara got herself out from under that car," Catherine interrupted. "She's strong – stronger than anything Natalie could have done to her."

Grissom nodded and fell silent as they continued to follow the trail.

* * *

A welcome breeze blew Sara's hair back from her face. She turned into it, letting it cool her cheeks as much as such hot air could. As she turned, she looked down, and saw the wind pushing and pulling the sand and dirt all around the ground.

"No," she whispered. "_No_."

The breeze that had helped to cool her was destroying the prints her boots left in the ground. If she couldn't see her footprints, how would she know she wasn't walking in circles?

She looked around desperately, and saw a stone. She picked it up, looking at it for a moment.

"Do you have friends?" she asked. "Maybe …"

"_Hey, want to learn an Indian trick?"_

_Sara looked at her fifteen-year-old foster brother warily. "Is this that Indian rope burn thing? I already know that one."_

"_No, not that," Josh said with a grin. "I learned it in Boy Scouts. See, before they had maps and street signs, people needed to be able to find their way home. So, they'd stack rocks up like this as markers. That way, they'd know where they had been. And, if someone else was going to meet them somewhere, they could follow the markers to find them."_

"_That's kind of cool," Sara conceded._

"_It's very cool. We used it at camp last weekend. Here, try it."_

_Sara stacked the rocks and smiled. "Now you can find me."_

_Josh rolled his eyes. "I already know where you are, doofus. It'll work if you're lost in the woods, though. I'd be able to find you and rescue you."_

_Sara rolled her own eyes. "I don't need anyone to rescue me. I can take care of myself."_

"_Well … just in case."_

She looked around until she found several other stones. She stacked them carefully, just as Josh had taught her.

"At least I'll know where I've been," she muttered. "And … just in case …"

This time, she wouldn't mind being rescued.

* * *

Grissom and Catherine were silent as they followed Sara's footprints. Catherine knew Grissom well enough to hold her tongue; the last thing he would want would be idle chatter or upbeat assurances.

Grissom was grateful for her silence. They had a job to do, and they didn't need to talk to do it. Just having her with him was enough to keep him calm and collected. There was a reason Brass had often said that if he were ever murdered, he'd want Grissom and Catherine running the investigation.

The search for each print became more painstaking as the wind blew dirt and sand across them, making them fainter and fainter. Catherine finally broke the silence.

"I'm not seeing anymore footprints. Are you?"

"No," Grissom said.

Catherine exhaled. "We just lost the trail."

Grissom lifted his binoculars to his eyes again. He scanned the area until one of Sara's markers came into view.

"Cath, look," he said excitedly, passing her the binoculars.

"What?" she asked, lifting them to her eyes and following Grissom's pointing finger.

They exchanged a glance, then ran for the marker.

"This is better than a footprint," Catherine said, lifting the stones.

Their mission changed. Rather than following Sara's footprints, they began following the markers she had left them.

"See another one?" Catherine asked after they had found the fifth marker.

Grissom, looking through his binoculars, did not see a marker. What he did see made his heart stop.

"Oh, no," he groaned.

"What?" Catherine asked.

Grissom took off running, with Catherine on his heels. They both skidded to a stop in front of a body that was nearly buried in the desert floor, its exposed boot the giveaway that it was there. Terror like he had never felt filled Grissom. _She came so far … _He and Catherine fell to their knees and began digging it out. Grissom grabbed the body and rolled it over, exhaling in relief as he looked into its face.

"It's not her," Catherine sighed, feeling relief flood through her.

They looked at each other; Grissom's face still held the terror that was only beginning to ebb.

"It's not her," Catherine said again.

Grissom nodded and slowly stood up. Catherine stood with him and turned to the uniforms who had been following them all day.

"Can you guys dig him out?"

"Yeah," one of them agreed easily. "Come on, guys."

A phone exchange with Brass told them that the victim had been camping; Catherine assumed that he had been caught in the rain and not able to make it to higher ground ahead of the flood waters.

Grissom looked around at the rolling hills. He exhaled.

"Where is she, Catherine?" he asked without looking at her. "It's 110 degrees. She's been out here all day without water. She's disoriented … she's dehydrated …"

"She's a survivor," Catherine said softly.

Grissom finally looked at her and nodded, his lips lifting slightly.

"You know Sara," Catherine continued. "When this is over, she'll be mad that we tried to find her at all. She'll tell us that she would have found her way home without our help."

Grissom smiled slightly. "Probably."

"All the same …" Catherine trailed off.

Grissom nodded. "Let's keep looking."

* * *

_Tired. Thirsty._

"Keep going," Sara muttered. "You can't stop."

_So tired. So … need a drink._

"Take your mind off it. Think of something else."

_Pain. So much pain._

"Don't stop. Keep going."

_Where am I going? I hurt so much …_

"Distraction … need a distraction … Gil always said to find a distraction …"

"_Sara. Do you have any diversions?"_

"_Do I what?"_

"_You max out on overtime every month. You go home and listen to your police scanner. You read forensic textbooks …"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Look, every day we meet people on the worst day of their lives. It's a lot to deal with. Everyone who's had any time on this job knows that you have to have a diversion in order to cope with what we see. What do you do for fun?"_

"_I chase rabbits. And … I read crime books. And I listen to the scanner."_

"_You need something outside of law enforcement. Catherine has her kid, you know? I sometimes … ride roller coasters. What do you do?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Okay. What do you like?"_

"_I don't like anything."_

"_You've got to find something to like. You can't get too close to the victims."_

"Keep going … don't stop …"

"_Sara, please, you've got to sleep, princess. Tomorrow is the first day of school. I want you to be awake during class."_

"_I heard you fighting."_

_Laura's face fell. "I didn't want you to hear that."_

"_I heard something break."_

"_Oh, sweetie …"_

"_What broke?"_

"_A … a vase."_

"_Why?"_

"_Daddy … knocked it over. Look, Sara, I don't want you to listen when we fight, okay? I don't want you to hear that."_

"_But, you're so loud."_

"_I know, Sara, and I'm sorry. Just … distract yourself, okay? Find something else to focus on so you're not listening. That way, you won't hear us."_

"_Okay. I'll try."_

_Laura kissed her forehead. "Good girl. Good night, princess."_

"_Good night, Mommy."_

"Don't stop … Don't look down …"

"_Damn it, Laura! Why did you buy the butter if it was that expensive?"_

"_I'm sorry! I –"_

_Sara pulled her pillow up around her head, trying to block the sounds of her parents' raised voices, of her father's fist making contact with her mother's body._

"_Distract myself," she muttered. _

_She thought of what she had learned in math class that day. Maybe …_

"_One times one is one," she recited. "One times two is two. One times three is three. One times …"_

"Three times four is twelve," Sara muttered. "Three times … five … three times five is fifteen. Five times …"

She stumbled, and fell to the ground, groaning at the impact.

"Get up. Get up. Come on." She pulled herself to her feet, using the mirror in her hand to give herself a push. "Four times five is twenty …"

She stumbled and fell again.

"Get up."

She pushed herself to her knees. "Get up. Don't stop."

She got all the way up and started walking again.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop."

It didn't work. For the first time, even the multiplication tables were failing her.

_I'm tired. I hurt. I'm thirsty. I'm tired. I hurt. I'm thirsty. I'm tired. I hurt. I'm thirsty. _

_I'm dizzy …_

The mirror dropped from her hand, and she fell down next to it. She couldn't coax herself back up. Her eyes closed.

* * *

Nick and Sofia drove the highway slowly, trying to see any sign of Sara. Sofia's ability to search was severely limited by the fact that she was driving; Nick did his best to look out both sides of the car at once.

_It's not your day, Sara. I won't let it be your day._

A glint of light caught his eye.

"Wait, slow down, slow down, slow down," he said, reaching for his binoculars.

"What is it?" Sofia asked.

"Go that way," Nick said, pointing in the direction he had seen the flash of light. "Go!"

Sofia turned off the road and followed his directions into the desert terrain. "Do you see her?" she asked.

"I saw … something."

Sofia nodded and sped up.

"Oh, my God," Nick exclaimed as Sofia pulled to a stop several yards from Sara's crumpled form.

He grabbed his water bottle and jumped out of the car even before Sofia had pulled to a complete stop. He ran the short distance to his friend.

"Sara!" he yelled. "_Sara_!"

He slid to a stop next to her like a baseball player stealing a base. "Sara, it's Nick. I'm here; can you hear me?"

Sofia knelt down next to him as he reached for Sara's neck.

"I can't find a pulse," he said desperately.

Sofia radioed for help, giving their location and requesting a medical helicopter. Nick doused Sara with his water, trying to help cool her down.

"Don't worry; we're gonna get you out of here, okay?" he asked, exchanging his water bottle for Sofia's and pouring more water on her.

Sofia ran back to the truck and returned with a duffle bag full of bottles of water. She and Nick immediately began opening them and pouring the water over Sara.

"Don't worry, now," Nick said as he opened another bottle.

"You're going to be okay, Sara," Sofia said, dousing her with water.

The medivac and another SUV arrived almost as the same time. Nick and Sofia both stood up to wave down the paramedics. They had just begun to work on her when Grissom and Catherine arrived.

Grissom and Catherine, carrying more water bottles, ran to Sara, stopping short at the sight of her unconscious body.

"How is she?" Catherine asked as Grissom dropped to his knees next to Sara.

Words and actions seemed jumbled all around him. Nick was saying that Sara wasn't responding to him. The paramedics were putting an oxygen mask over her face and an IV in her arm.

Grissom leaned back, wiping his hand over his face. _They wouldn't do that if it were hopeless. She's going to be fine. She _has_ to be fine. _

Grissom helped them roll Sara onto the stretcher, holding her arm in place. Nick grabbed her IV bag, holding it high as they carried the stretcher to the waiting helicopter. They loaded her quickly and took the bag from Nick.

"Where are you taking her?" Catherine asked, yelling to be heard over the noise of the helicopter.

"Desert Palm," one of the paramedics replied.

"Move over; I'm going with her," Grissom said.

The paramedic slid farther into the chopper, letting Grissom climb in behind him. Sofia and Nick closed the doors; they and Catherine watched as the helicopter pulled away from the ground.

"Desert Palm, then," Sofia said. "You riding with me, Nick?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Call Warrick and Brass," Catherine said. "I'll call Greg and the lab."

"Right," Nick said.

He turned to follow Sofia to the waiting SUV, but stopped. He took two long strides back to Catherine, and pulled her into a crushing embrace.

"We found her," he nearly whispered. "We found her, and we saved her."

"We did," Catherine affirmed, hugging him tightly.

Nick released her and gave her a lopsided smile. "I'll see you at the hospital."

"I'm right behind you," Catherine said with a slightly teary smile of her own.

Nick nodded and climbed into the passenger seat of Sofia's SUV. Catherine started to walk back to her own SUV, but stopped and looked up. She watched as the helicopter climbed higher and higher into the sky, taking Sara and Grissom away from the desert.

"Thank God we found her," she whispered. "I don't know what he'd do without her."

* * *

Grissom watched for a moment as the paramedics began pulling ice out of their coolers. They packed it around, on and under Sara, trying to bring down her insanely high body temperature. Grissom looked at her, wanting to touch her, but not wanting to hurt her …

He put his hand over hers, thinking that it looked like it had come out of her ordeal unscathed. The paramedics continued to put ice around her, but Grissom barely saw them. His attention was focused on her face, watching carefully for any movement or sign of recognition.

_Come on, Sara. Open your eyes. Let me see your beautiful eyes again. Please. Open them for me._

Sara's mind was a fog. She thought she could hear voices, she thought she could feel something cold … She thought she could feel …

She forced her eyes open. Colors swam in front of them. _Black. White. Pattern. Lines. Letters. G. R. I. Name. GRISSOM._

_GRISSOM! _

Her eyes slid higher, trying to focus more, and she saw his face. Grissom was looking at her, holding her hand. She opened her eyes wider and tilted her head to the side, trying to see him better.

Grissom looked down at her, reading the confusion in her eyes, watching as it morphed into recognition. She didn't know where she was, but she knew he was there with her, holding her hand.

Neither one could speak, but it didn't matter. They held each other's eyes, communicating without words all that they felt.

He knew she had fought her way back for him. He knew that he had been her strength, even as she had been his. That together, they were greater than they could ever be apart.

She knew how hard he had fought to save her. How much he loved her. She knew he wouldn't leave her. Not ever again.

_I love you. I love you so very much._


	98. Salvation

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that it meets with your expectations for the aftermath of Sara's rescue.

I don't own CSI or ESPN.

* * *

_Salvation_

The helicopter touched down on the landing pad at the hospital. Grissom was forced to release Sara's hand so that the paramedics could take her to the waiting gurney. Her eyes widened at the loss of contact, but Grissom was careful to remain in her sight line as he climbed out behind her. He followed along as the paramedics wheeled her into the hospital, listening as they relayed all pertinent information to the doctors who would take over her care.

"Okay," one of the doctors said as the paramedics left. "We're going to take her to a trauma room." She turned to Grissom. "You're … a friend?"

Grissom frowned. "No … I'm her …" _Boyfriend_ didn't sound right. They had used it before, but now, it didn't seem to go far enough. He tried again, "We … we're in a relationship."

"Ah. Good. I'm Dr. Mitchell. My team and I are going to take a look at Sara now. While we're doing that and deciding where to go from here, could you go to the front desk? They'll help you sign her in."

"I'd rather …"

"You can't stay with her right now," the doctor explained. "After you sign her in, have a seat in the waiting room. We'll find you as soon as we have more information."

Grissom sighed and nodded. "Can I say goodbye?"

She nodded.

Grissom leaned down over Sara, brushing his lips against her forehead. "The doctors are going to take care of you," he said. "I have to go sign you in … paperwork, you know."

The look in her eyes changed slightly, as though she would have laughed if it had been at all possible.

"I'll be waiting for you, and I'll join you as soon as they let me." He kissed her forehead again. "I love you, Sara."

Tears filled her eyes as he straightened up.

"We'll take good care of her," Dr. Mitchell promised. "I'll find you as soon as I can let you see her again."

"Thank you," Grissom said.

Dr. Mitchell nodded and wheeled Sara away from Grissom, behind the double doors that separated the trauma rooms from the rest of the ER. Sighing again, Grissom turned and made his way to the front desk.

"Hi," he said. "Is this where I go to sign in a patient?"

"Yes," the woman behind the desk – Holly, according to her nametag – said. "Are you the patient?"

"No," he replied. "My girlfriend was just brought in. Dr. Mitchell already took her into a trauma room." _Girlfriend. I still think I need a better word …_

Holly's eyes widened. "Oh. She's the CSI they found in the desert, isn't she?"

"Yes." He nearly choked on the word.

Holly nodded sympathetically. "We've been waiting for her since we first got word that she was missing," she said. "Dr. Mitchell is the best we have in the ER. She's been avoiding other cases all night, waiting for this one."

Grissom nodded, feeling a bit dazed by the attention the ER staff had given to Sara's arrival.

"We'll just need you to fill out this information," she said, giving Grissom a clipboard with several sheets of paper already attached to it. "Does she have any allergies that we should be aware of immediately?"

"Penicillin," Grissom said, taking the clipboard.

"Okay," Holly replied. "I'll go let Dr. Mitchell know about that, and I'll let you get started on those forms."

Grissom nodded and found a seat in the waiting area. Filling out the forms wasn't as time-consuming as he had feared. His main concern was her medical history. While he was fairly aware of her more recent medical information, he was sketchier on what had happened in the past. He remembered her mentioning having her wisdom teeth and tonsils removed, but couldn't remember when either of those events had happened. Her family medical history was a mystery to him; he remembered her saying that her grandmother was diabetic, but that was all.

"I'm sorry," he said at last as he gave the clipboard back to Holly. "I'm not sure when she had those surgeries, and I don't know much about her family history."

"That's fine," she replied. "I'm sure you've given us enough for now. If we have more questions, we'll see if Sara can answer them."

"If it's truly important and she's not able to answer, we can call her mother," Grissom said, thinking that he should probably call Laura regardless. She would want to know that her daughter was in the hospital.

"We'll wait and see," Holly replied. "Now, the last thing I need is a copy of her insurance card. Do you have that with you?"

Grissom looked at her as though she had grown a second head. "No-o," he said slowly. "I might –"

"Gil!"

Grissom turned to see Catherine rushing toward him. "Hi, Cath."

"How is she?"

"I haven't heard anything yet."

"Was she responsive at all when they brought her in?"

"She opened her eyes and looked at me during the flight over." Grissom smiled at the memory. "And, she seemed to understand what I was saying to her when we got here."

"Good," Catherine said, looking utterly relieved.

"Hey, Cath, you processed her car, right?"

"Yes."

"Was her purse there?"

"I think so," she said, frowning slightly. "Kit, keys, cell phone … yeah, I think I found her purse, too."

"They're all in evidence, right?"

"Yes."

"I need her insurance card," he said. "She keeps it in her wallet. Would you mind going to the lab and getting it for me?"

"Sure," she agreed, blinking. Even after spending so much time helping Grissom hold it together while they searched for the woman he loved, his _familiarity_ with Sara was a bit … surprising.

"Bring her cell, too," Grissom added. "I want to call her mother to let her know what happened. She has her number saved in the phone."

"Okay," Catherine said, shaking her head slightly. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She winked. "I think I'll go with lights and sirens for this one."

Grissom smiled. "Be careful."

"I will."

As Catherine turned to leave, Grissom looked at Holly again. "It will be here shortly."

She smiled. "Thank you."

Smiling at her, Grissom turned to find a seat in the waiting area. He had no sooner sat down than he heard his name being called. He looked up to see Nick and Sofia crossing the room to join him with Brass on their heels.

"Any news?" Nick asked.

"Not yet," Grissom replied. "But, she opened her eyes and she seems responsive."

"Thank God," Nick said as he sat down next to Grissom.

Brass sat down with Sofia across from them. Greg and Warrick were the next to arrive, both looking scared to death.

"What's wrong with you two?" Sofia asked, chuckling. "We found Sara."

"Yeah," Greg said, taking the open seat beside Brass. "We were on our way out of the parking lot when Catherine was on her way in. Have you ever seen her drive with lights and sirens?"

"Ah," Grissom said with dawning understanding. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Not that we've heard about yet," Warrick said, sitting down next to Nick. "She yelled something about needing Sara's purse?"

"Yeah, I sent her to get it out of evidence so we could give the hospital her insurance card." He smirked. "When she said she was going lights and sirens, I didn't really believe her."

Brass chuckled. "I thought we didn't let her drive the cars that had lights and sirens anymore."

"How's Sara?" Greg asked.

"They're working on her now," Grissom said. "She was responsive the last time I saw her."

Greg exhaled, his relief evident on his face. "Good."

"Her doctor will find us as soon as they know more," Grissom added.

Warrick looked agitated. "I don't wait well."

"Hey," Brass said, giving him a gruff smile, "what have I been telling you since you started this gig? _Patience_, Warrick. Patience."

"Yeah, you and my grandmother," Warrick said with a grin.

"Hey," Greg said, pointing at the television mounted to the wall, "look at that!"

They all looked up to see that the local news was opening with a story about Sara's abduction and rescue. News choppers had clearly arrived after Grissom and Catherine had started following Sara's footprints; the scenes they were showing were of the car already loaded onto a trailer. As the images of the desert faded away, McKeen appeared on the screen.

"I am very proud of all that the men and women of LVPD and CSI did today," he said. "Due to their hard work, CSI Sidle is safe, and the woman who attempted to kill her has been apprehended."

"Sheriff, is it true that Sara Sidle was abducted by a serial killer?" the reporter asked.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss details, but she is a suspect in other open cases," he said delicately.

"What can you tell us about CSI Sidle's condition?"

"She's being treated at an area hospital," he said. "I don't have any other details at this time."

"What can you tell us about the search?"

"Captain Brass ran the search and rescue operation," McKeen replied. "He'll be giving a press conference within the next twenty-four hours to discuss all the details with you."

"Oh, will he?" Brass asked sarcastically. "Thanks for the heads up, Sheriff."

Greg, Nick and Warrick all chuckled.

"Turn it off," Grissom said, suddenly looking very tired. "We don't need to see more of that. Living it once was more than enough."

"Yeah," Brass agreed, getting up and changing the channel to ESPN. "Let's get caught up on our sports news."

The ER doors opened and Catherine appeared. Greg and Warrick exchanged glances – Warrick taking an exaggerated look at his watch –, and Brass and Grissom smiled.

Without stopping to chat with her colleagues, Catherine went straight to the desk.

"May I help you?" Holly asked.

"I have Sara Sidle's insurance card," she said. She fished Sara's wallet out of her purse. "Or, so I've been told."

Holly smiled. "I'll just need to make a copy of it, and then I'll give it right back to you."

"Okay," Catherine said.

She opened Sara's wallet, unsurprised to see that it was very organized. She flipped past credit cards and came to the "personal information" section. Her health insurance card was on top. She pulled it out and handed it over.

"I'll be right back," Holly said.

Catherine nodded. "Take your time."

Holly disappeared into the office behind her. Catherine leaned on the counter as she waited, flipping through Sara's wallet without really realizing what she was doing. She came upon her pictures, smiling at the picture of Josie that was on top. It was clearly her professional Christmas picture; the red and green dress was a dead giveaway. Catherine flipped it aside, and saw a snapshot of Sara holding the baby at her baptism behind it. That picture was followed by another snapshot, this one of Mary and Sara hugging each other.

Flipping that picture aside, Catherine gasped. The next picture was of Grissom and Sara. She flipped back to the picture of Sara with Josie, then returned to the picture of Sara with Grissom.

"She's wearing the same dress!" she whispered. "He was at the baptism with her!"

Eyes wide, she flipped past that picture to see one of them together that had been taken more recently. The last one was of Grissom, wearing an orange shirt and CSI vest and holding a camera.

"How did you hide this from us for so long?" Catherine murmured.

"Here's Ms. Sidle's insurance card."

Catherine looked up in surprise and took the card from Holly. "Thank you."

She put the insurance card back into its proper place in Sara's wallet and replaced the wallet in her purse. Looking around, she saw her friends seated together. Shouldering both Sara's purse and her own, she joined them, sliding into the empty seat next to Grissom.

"Hi," she said. "I gave them Sara's insurance card."

"Thanks," Grissom said.

Catherine reached into Sara's purse again and pulled out her cell phone. "Here's her phone. You said you wanted to call her mother?"

"Thanks," Grissom said again. He took the phone and put it in his pocket, mildly surprised to discover that he was still wearing his CSI vest. He looked around and saw that Catherine, Greg and Nick were still wearing theirs, too. "I'll call her after we hear from the doctors."

Catherine nodded her agreement. "No word yet?"

"Nothing."

She nodded again. "I figured it would take some time."

Silence fell as they tried to watch tv and avoid thinking about the fact that they knew so little about Sara's health. Looking around, Grissom was reminded of the night they had spent in the ER waiting for news about Nick's condition after his abduction. They had had the same nervous, tense energy surrounding them that night, too.

He glanced to his right. Sara had been sitting there that night, not Catherine. He remembered their discussion after they had gone back to his house.

"_You know, Griss, at the hospital..."_

_Grissom looked at her, confused by the strained tone of her voice. "What about it?"_

"_I just …"_

"_Just what?"_

"_I __needed__ you."_

"_Sweetheart, I was right there," he said, frowning. "I was sitting right next to you."_

"_No, it's …"_

"_It's what?"_

"_God, Gil, I wanted to touch you so badly," Sara said in a rush. "I wanted to hold your hand, or to hug you, or … I watched Catherine put her head on Warrick's shoulder, and I was so __jealous__."_

"_Jealous?"_

"_Yes! I was jealous because she can do that. And, she can do that because there's nothing going on between them. They don't have to worry that they'll be fired every time they touch each other."_

"_Sara, we knew when we started this that it would be this way," Grissom said. "What we're doing … it's against departmental policy." He tightened his arms around her. "But, Sara," he continued, his voice just above a whisper, "I'd far rather not touch you at work and have what we have than to be able to hug you in front of Greg and just be your boss."_

_Sara shivered slightly and turned to face him. "I would, too," she admitted._

He sighed, running his hands over his face. He suddenly realized that it didn't matter anymore. That after everything that had happened since he had walked into his office and found the miniature on his desk, he would have given his job, his career, _anything_ just to be able to touch Sara again.

"_What we're doing … it's against departmental policy."_

He frowned as another memory surfaced.

"_It is different," Grissom said, speaking as though hypnotized, as though totally to himself, despite the team gathered around him. "This girl holds me responsible for the death of Ernie Dell. I took away the only person she ever loved, so she's going to do the same thing to me."_

His frown deepened.

_Wait … Did I …? _

He turned to look at Catherine. "Cath …?"

"Yeah?

"Before … when we were at the lab …"

"You're here for Sara Sidle?"

Grissom's question died on his lips as he stood up to meet the approaching doctor, vaguely aware of the fact that his friends, too, had jumped to their feet.

"Dr. Mitchell," he said. "How is she?"

Dr. Mitchell gave him a smile. "She's going to be fine," she said. "Right now, our main concern is her arm. It's broken in two places, and we're going to need to do surgery to repair it. I've already scheduled her with our top orthopedic surgeon. His crew will be down to collect her in about thirty minutes."

"So, other than her arm …?"

The doctor nodded. "She's dehydrated, sunburned and suffering from exhaustion. Frightening though it may sound, all those are easily treated." She smiled. "She's going to need a lot of aloe for the next week or two. We're working on hydrating her right now. As for her recovery … she's going to need a lot of rest."

"Well, that should be easy," Greg said. "The girl never takes a day off. She probably has a month of vacation time coming."

"We'll use her sick leave first," Grissom said without thinking.

"You all work together?" Dr. Mitchell asked.

They nodded, and she smiled.

"Sara has some good friends. She's lucky to get to see so much of them."

"Can we see her?" Grissom asked.

"I can't let all of you back," she said. "And, we only have a short time before she'll be taken for surgery."

"Go, Gil," Catherine said, giving him a slight push in the back. "We'll wait here for you."

Grissom nodded. In that one moment, she had answered the question he never got to ask. "Thanks."

"I'll show you the way," Dr. Mitchell said.

Grissom nodded again, and followed her back behind the double doors. She led him down the hall to the tiny room where Sara was lying on a bed, looking pale under her sunburn.

"Hi, Sara," Dr. Mitchell said. "I brought you a visitor."

"Hi, honey," Grissom said as he entered the room.

Sara's face lit up. "Gil," she whispered.

He sat down beside her and took her hand, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she said. "Really, really tired."

"How does your arm feel?"

"Fine." She looked up at the IV bag that was providing her with pain medication and grinned. "Drugs can fix anything."

"Naughty girl."

She smiled again. "You have no idea how good it is to see your face … to hear your voice …" Tears filled her eyes. "I was so scared, Gil. I was so scared I'd never see you again."

Grissom swallowed hard. "You should have known better. You know how hard we fought to find Nick. Did you think we wouldn't do the same for you? We couldn't give up on you."

She smiled a watery smile and nodded. "Thank you for that."

"Sara," Grissom sighed, "I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

Careful of the tubes, needles and broken arm, Grissom leaned over to kiss her lips. Sara brought her good arm up to wrap her hand around his neck, holding him in place for a very thorough kiss.

A throat being cleared brought Grissom back to reality. Blushing, he straightened up.

"Sorry to break up the party, folks, but I need to take this young lady to surgery," the orderly said with a grin.

Grissom looked at his watch, frowning. "Dr. Mitchell said we had half an hour."

"Well, when the surgeon tells me to get a move on, I get a move on," he replied, chuckling. "The sooner we start, the sooner we get done."

"That's true," Grissom said, standing up and moving aside. "They're going to put your arm back together, honey."

"So I've been told," she said, giving it a wry glance. "You know, this is the first broken bone I've ever had. I would be the one whose first broken bone is a complex fracture requiring surgery."

Grissom smiled. "You need to drink more milk. You need the calcium."

"I don't think calcium would have stopped that car from crushing it," she said, shaking her head. "I guess I'll see you later?"

"I'll be waiting for you."

She smiled. "I love you," she said again.

"I love you, too."

"Oh," she said as the orderly started to wheel her away, "tell the others I said hello, too."

Grissom smiled. "They're in the waiting room right now."

"I know."

"Oh, really?"

She smiled. "Just like with Nicky, right?"

"Right."

"I'll see you when I see you," she called as the orderly took her down the hall.

Grissom smiled. "I'll see you when I see you."

He watched as Sara was wheeled down the hall. A nurse appeared, and pulled a bag from a shelf.

"You're a family member?" she asked.

"Yes," Grissom replied without hesitation. _Much better than friend … or even boyfriend._

"These are Sara's belongings."

"Oh," he said, taking the bag from her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. You'll just want to go to the main desk on the surgical floor. Tell them the patient's name, and they'll give you a pager. The doctor will use that to tell you when she's out of surgery."

"Okay," Grissom said. "Thank you."

She smiled. "You're welcome."

Clutching the bag of Sara's clothes, Grissom returned to the waiting area. The others immediately stood up as he approached.

"They took her for surgery," he said. "She's doing really well right now."

"Surgery will fix that," Nick said. "They're going to zap her strength."

"It'll be worth it," Catherine said. "Did they say how long she'll be in surgery?"

Grissom shook his head. "The nurse said to go to the surgical floor to get a pager."

"Let's do that."

They found their way to the elevators and read the directory, noting that they needed to go to the third floor. Once they arrived, Catherine accompanied Grissom to the desk to get the pager.

"We're here for Sara Sidle," he said. "The ER nurse told me to get a pager from you?"

The woman consulted the computer screen in front of her. "Yes, Sara's surgery is scheduled to begin in forty-five minutes," she said. "I'll just need you to fill this out with your name, relationship to the patient, and cell phone number."

Grissom took the paper and wrote his name and phone number quickly. The _relationship_ category again gave him pause. Mentally sighing, he wrote _significant other_ on the line. Catherine, who had been watching carefully, looked away to hide her smile.

"Here's your pager," the woman said, passing him a restaurant-style pager. "When it lights up and vibrates, bring it back here. The doctor will either be here, on the phone or have left a message for you."

"Any idea how long we have?" Catherine asked.

"It says three hours," she said. "That's for the surgery itself. After that she'll be in recovery for at least an hour – could be two. After that, we'll put her in a room. You'll be allowed to see her at that point."

"Thank you," Catherine said, steering Grissom away from the desk.

"Okay," she said as they rejoined the group. "Sara's going to be in surgery for three hours, then in recovery for at least an hour. All told, we have four to five hours before we'll be allowed to visit her. Who wants to go out for food?"

"I'm in," Brass said at once.

"I think I'm going to go home and sleep," Nick said. "I'll come back later."

"Me, too," Greg agreed.

Warrick and Sofia nodded.

"Okay," Catherine said. "So, food for me and Brass, sleep for you four … Grissom?"

"I'm going to wait here."

"Gil, you need to eat," Catherine said, immediately going into "mother" mode. "I've been with you all day, and I haven't seen you eat a thing."

"I don't want to leave Sara," he said.

Catherine and Brass exchanged a glance.

"If we bring you something, will you eat it?" she asked.

Grissom nodded.

"Okay. We'll bring you something." She paused to hug him tightly. "She's going to be fine," she whispered.

Grissom nodded against her. "Thank you, Cath. For everything."

She leaned back and kissed his cheek. "That's what friends are for."

Once Catherine had released him, the others took their turns at saying goodbye. They finally all made it out the door, and Grissom collapsed onto a chair.

_She's going to be fine. She's going to be fine._

* * *

Catherine and Brass made their way to a nearby diner. They placed their orders, and then stirred their coffee in silence for a moment.

"You know," Brass said, breaking the silence.

"Know what?"

"About Grissom and Sara."

Catherine exhaled. "Grissom told us while we were processing the miniature. Well … I don't even know if it's safe to say he told _us_." She shook her head. "You should have seen him, Jim. The way he just … said it. That Sara is the only person he's ever loved. In front of all of us. I don't even think he knew what he was saying. I've never seen him like that before."

"Well, Sara was missing," Brass said with a slight shrug. He took a sip of his coffee. "The woman he loves more than anything had been abducted by a deranged psychopath who had already killed four people. I'd say his reaction was understandable."

"Yeah, but …" Catherine's eyes grew wide. "Jim …"

"Yeah?"

"When we were working Lady Heather's attack, you told me that you had juicy gossip."

Brass's eyes widened to create an expression of innocence. "Me? I'm sure I never said anything like that."

"You – Jim, you _knew_! You knew and you didn't tell me!"

Brass held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I did promise to keep it quiet."

"You promised," she repeated, shaking her head. "How long have you known?"

Brass looked thoughtful. "Since last summer."

"A _year_? You've known for a year?"

"About, I guess."

"You're one hell of a secret keeper," Catherine said, shaking her head in amazement. "How long have they been together?"

"That I can't tell you," Brass said. "But … they seem happy together, don't they?"

Catherine smiled. "Yeah. I'll say this for him: It may have taken him years to get some personal stuff, but when he did … wow."

Brass chuckled.

"And, good for Sara," she continued with a soft smile. "She deserves this."

Brass smiled. "They both do."

"Thank God she's going to be okay," Catherine said. "I can't imagine what it would do to him to lose her."

"Don't think about it," Brass advised. "There's no point. It's not going to happen."

"Yeah," Catherine said with a smile. She picked up the menu again. "What do you think he'd want us to bring him? Steak and eggs? Or has Sara turned him into a vegetarian?"

Brass chuckled. "After the night he's had, I think he'll need the steak. Give the man some protein."

Catherine smiled. "Steak and eggs it is."

* * *

Grissom finally roused himself and remembered that he had a job to do. He took Sara's phone from his pocket and scrolled through her list of contacts. He paused as he reached Mary's name. He'd have to call her, too, but, her mother needed to be first. He went past Mary; the next name in the list was Mom. He pressed the button to call her.

The phone rang three times before it was answered by a woman who sounded vaguely like Sara.

"Hello?"

"Hi," Grissom said. He had been on the verge of calling her _Mrs. Sidle_, but he wasn't sure how much she'd appreciate that, given how her marriage had ended. "This is Gil Grissom," he said instead. "I'm –"

"Sara's Grissom," Laura said, cutting him off. "Oh, it's so nice to talk to you! Sara's told me so much about you."

Grissom smiled faintly. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not."

"It's a good thing," she assured him. "I feel terrible we've never met, but I always tell Sara to tell you hello and …" She trailed off. "Something's wrong with Sara."

"Yes," Grissom admitted. "She …"

"Is she going to be okay?" Laura asked, her voice rising as panic began to take hold. "Please, tell me what happened!"

"She's going to be okay," Grissom said, figuring that was the most important part of the story, and should be told first. "She … she was abducted by a serial killer who tried to murder her. But, she got out, we found her, and she's in the hospital right now, having surgery to repair a broken arm."

"A broken arm," Laura repeated. "Sara's never had a broken bone before. You'd think …" She cleared her throat. "How long will she be there?"

"She'll be in surgery for a couple hours," Grissom said. "Beyond that, they haven't told me how long they'll need to keep her. At least another day, I'd imagine."

"Right," Laura said. "And then you'll have her at home?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'm going to look into flights, and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"You don't need to do that," Grissom said, a bit alarmed at the expense.

"My daughter was nearly killed," she said. "I need to do that. I'll call you to let you know when I'll be there."

"Okay," Grissom said a bit weakly. "Thanks."

"Thank you for calling me," she said. "It really … means a lot."

"You're her mother," Grissom said simply. "You should know."

"Still," she said, "I know you weren't required to call me. The fact that you did … says a lot."

Grissom felt his face growing hot.

"I'll be in touch," Laura said. "Thank you again."

"You're welcome."

"Bye."

She hung up before Grissom could even repeat a "bye" to her. He had a feeling she was already going online to check flight times and prices.

He closed Sara's phone and held it against his lips for a moment. He wondered how she would react to the news that her mother would arrive for a visit. Probably well; he knew they got along quite well. And, in her current state, Sara needed all the support she could get.

Feeling calmer, he opened the phone again and scrolled to Mary's number. She answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Sara."

"Um, no," Grissom said. "Sorry, Mary. It's Grissom."

"Oh, God," Mary said immediately. "What happened to Sara?"

"She's going to be fine," Grissom said. "She … Well, the short version is that she was abducted. She's safe now, though. She's in the hospital, in surgery to repair a broken arm."

Mary exhaled slowly. "She was abducted?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who abducted her?"

"Yes. She's in police custody right now."

"Do you know why Sara was targeted?"

Grissom sighed, closing his eyes. "Yes," he said in a tight voice.

"Is this likely to happen again?"

"No," he said forcefully.

"Good." After so many years of friendship with Sara, Mary knew better than to ask for more details. There was every chance that Grissom wouldn't be allowed to tell her more. "And, she's going to be okay?" she asked.

"Yes. She'll be fine."

"Thank God." She paused. "I guess this means she won't be out to see me this summer."

Grissom smiled in spite of himself. "No, I don't think that's going to happen."

"Maybe I could come to see her," she mused. "Would that be okay?"

"I think she's like that very much," Grissom said.

"Okay. Tell you what – give me your cell phone and email. I'll keep in touch with you so you can let me know when she's well enough to put up with having me hanging around. I know I'll never get the truth from her. The girl has issues admitting she's sick and can't do everything she'd normally do."

Grissom smiled and rattled off the requested information.

"Thanks," Mary said. "I'll be in touch, okay?"

"That's great," Grissom said.

"Give her a kiss for me," she said. "And, one for Josie, too."

"I will," Grissom promised.

"Thanks for calling," Mary said. "I'll be in touch."

"I'll talk to you soon, then."

"Bye, Grissom."

"Bye."

He closed Sara's phone again, this time turning it off and replacing it in his pocket. He settled back in his chair to begin his long wait.


	99. Apologies

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Apologies_

"Hey."

Grissom looked up with tired eyes to see Catherine standing over him, holding out a bag.

"Your take out," she explained.

Smiling, Grissom took the bag from her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Catherine sat down next to him. "Any word yet?"

"No."

She nodded, relaxing back into the chair. "I thought we might have some time."

"Where's Brass?" Grissom asked, pulling the containers of food out of the bag.

Catherine grinned. "While we were waiting for your food, he got a call from McKeen telling him to get his ass back to PD for a press conference."

Grissom smiled. "I'll bet he was thrilled."

"You could say that," Catherine said, chuckling.

"Steak and eggs?" Grissom asked, opening the containers. "Cath, you shouldn't have!"

"Only the best for you," she replied with a smile. "It's the least I can do …"

Grissom paused with a forkful of steak halfway to his mouth. "What do you mean?"

"Gil, I owe you an apology," she said. "I had no idea that you and Sara … that you were together." She shook her head. "You'd think, after all these years of playing your therapist where she was concerned, I'd notice that your relationship had … evolved."

"Cath, how could you have known?" Grissom asked. "We didn't tell anyone. We went out of our way to keep it out of the lab."

"Yeah, but …" She shrugged. "We've been best friends for years. Some best friend I turned out to be."

Grissom shook his head. "Catherine. Of all the things that I could be upset about right now, this is not even a consideration. Trust me. You have no reason to apologize to me."

"I guess … I'm just sorry I wasn't a better friend to you. I promise that's going to change."

Grissom narrowed his eyes slightly. "By 'better friend,' you don't happen to mean 'nosier friend,' do you?"

Catherine laughed at that. "I won't pry. I promise."

"Well, bear in mind that the only way you could have found out about Sara and me would have been by prying," Grissom said. "Like I said, we didn't tell anyone."

"Oh, really?" she said, her face the picture of innocence. "Is that how Brass knew?"

Grissom chuckled. "Brass doesn't count. He found out all on his own." He paused. "How do you know that he knows?"

"Okay, before this becomes a confused game of who knows what, you're the one who told us. So, from this point on, you don't get to ask anyone how they found out about you and your secret romantic life."

"Yeah," Grissom said, his face falling. "I … I didn't mean to just tell everyone like that. I wasn't thinking, I …"

"Hey," Catherine said, taking his hand. "You were under an awful lot of stress. It's understandable that you'd talk without realizing what you were saying. I don't think anyone's going to blame you."

"By 'anyone,' you mean Sara."

"Well … yeah."

Grissom sighed. "I need to tell her."

Catherine smiled. "Trust me. Of all the things she could be upset about right now …"

Grissom smiled back. "Point taken."

Catherine nudged him with her shoulder and dropped his hand. "Now, eat your food before it gets cold."

"Yes, Mom."

Catherine smiled and picked up a magazine from the table next to her. She flipped it open, then closed it.

"No, really – how _did_ Brass find out?"

Grissom laughed. "He caught us in a compromising position."

Catherine's mouth dropped open, and Grissom laughed again.

"He ran into us – outside the lab, I might add – holding hands. He saw us before we saw him, and by the time we tried to act like nothing was going on, it was too late." He shook his head. "He promised to keep it quiet, and, as far as I know, he has."

"He has," Catherine affirmed. "I'd like to think I'd be the one he'd tell, if he were going to break your confidence."

"Probably," Grissom conceded.

Catherine fell silent, and Grissom returned to his food. He had just finished the last of his steak and eggs when the pager he had placed on the table in front of him began to light up and vibrate. Exchanging a glance with Catherine, he picked it up. They both stood and made their way to the desk.

"Hello," a tall, thin man in scrubs said. "You're with Sara Sidle?"

"Yes," Grissom replied.

"Gil Grissom?"

"Yes," Grissom said again. "This is Catherine Willows. She's a friend."

"Very good," the man replied. "I'm Dr. Rogers. I performed the surgery on Sara's arm."

"How is she?" Grissom asked.

"She's doing really great," Dr. Rogers replied with a grin. "She's in recovery right now, but we expect to move her to a room within fifteen minutes." He consulted his chart. "Room 315. You'll be paged again once she settled and can accept visitors."

Grissom nodded.

"The surgery was a complete success," the doctor continued. "We've realigned her bones so everything will heal as it should. She'll have to have her arm completely immobilized for some time, but we'll have her good as new when it's all over."

"She's not going to like that," Catherine said. "Knowing Sara, she'll want to be back at work tomorrow."

Dr. Rogers chuckled. "Well, it's going to take longer than that. Her other doctors and I have agreed that she'll need to stay with us for the next two days. After that, we're hopeful that we'll be able to release her." He paused. "Does Sara live alone? She'll need assistance for at least the first week after she's been released. Beyond that, everything will depend on how good she is at doing things with only one hand."

"No, she doesn't live alone," Grissom replied, determinedly avoiding Catherine's eyes. "I'll be there, and her mother is flying in to help."

"Good," Dr. Rogers said. "Okay, folks, I think that's about all I can tell you right now. Like I said, the nurses will page you when Sara's ready to accept visitors."

"Thank you, Doctor," Grissom said.

"You're welcome," he replied. "I'll see you again, I'm sure. I'll be in to check on Sara later."

Grissom nodded, and the doctor took his leave. Without the doctor to keep her quiet, Grissom knew he only had seconds before …

"You _live_ with her?" Catherine exclaimed.

Grissom sighed. "Yes."

"Okay, bear with me while I try to understand," Catherine said, holding up her hands and shaking her head. "I get that you kept the fact that you were dating out of the lab. That's easy enough to do, and, let's be honest here, it kept you both in your jobs. But, Gil, how the _hell_ did you keep _living together_ quiet? HR has records of our address –"

"If you go to HR, you'll find different addresses in our files," Grissom interrupted. "Sara's been using a PO Box since we bought our house."

"You own a house together," Catherine said a bit faintly.

"Cath, please …"

She held up her hands, palms out toward him. "You're right. I'm sorry. I promised I wouldn't pry."

Grissom gave her a slight smile. "Thank you."

The pager Grissom still held in his hand lit up again. Catherine smiled.

"Looks like you can see her now."

"Do you want to come with?"

Catherine shook her head. "You go. I'll wait here for you."

"You're sure?"

She smiled again. "I'm sure."

"Thanks."

Grissom returned to the desk and handed the pager to the nurse on duty. She smiled as she accepted it and checked its number.

"You're here for Sara Sidle?"

"That's right."

"Great. We've got her set up in room 315, which is just down this hall and to the right." She glanced at the clock on the desk. "Visiting hours end in thirty minutes, but you can come back at ten tomorrow morning if you'd like."

Grissom nodded. "Thank you."

He brushed past her and followed her directions down the hall and to the right until he found Sara's room. He peeked around the open door to see her lying in bed. Smiling, he stepped into the room.

"Hi, beautiful," he said, stopping next to her bed.

Sara, who looked even worse than the last time he had seen her in the ER, smiling up at him. "Hey, handsome."

Grissom leaned down to kiss her forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'll never be able to move again."

Chuckling, Grissom sat down in the chair next to her bed. "Well, they're going to keep you here for a couple days before they let you come home."

"Good," she sighed. "As much as I'd love nothing more than to sleep in our bed … I really don't think I could even sit in the car long enough to go home right now."

"Just rest," Grissom said, reaching out to smooth a lock of hair back from her face. "The doctors and nurses will take good care of you."

Sara nodded, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Hey," Grissom said, brushing one away as it fell. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she said, trying to laugh and failing miserably.

"You're tired," Grissom said. "You're tired, you've just been through a long surgery, you're drugged, and …" He trailed off, swallowing. "Just rest, Sara. Close your eyes and rest."

"I don't want to not see you," she said, her tears beginning to fall faster.

"I'm not going to leave you," Grissom said. He glanced at the clock above her bed. "Okay, well, they are going to kick me out when visiting hours end, but I'll be back as soon as they let me in tomorrow, okay? I promise, Sara, I'm going to be here for you. I'll never leave you."

She nodded, trying to swallow her tears. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Always."

She smiled tearfully, and her eyes slowly closed. Grissom stayed until he was sure she was asleep, and then, kissing her forehead again, he left her to her dreams.

Catherine, as promised, was waiting for him when he emerged from her room. She stood up as she saw him approaching.

"How is she?" she asked.

"Tired," Grissom replied. "Drugged. Emotional."

"Yeah," Catherine said. "That makes sense."

"She's sleeping now," Grissom added.

"Good," Catherine said. "She needs the sleep." She gave him an appraising look. "And, I might add, you could do with some sleep, too."

Grissom shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Gil, you've been awake for almost a week," Catherine said.

Grissom shook his head wordlessly.

"Okay, maybe that's a bit of a hyperbole," she said with a smile. "But, you need to go home and sleep. You said yourself that Sara's asleep right now. She's not going to miss you if you're not here. And, I have a feeling you're going to be of far more use to her if you're well-rested than you would be dead on your feet."

"That's true," Grissom acknowledged.

"Besides, don't you have a dog to take care of?"

Grissom smiled. "He's with the sitter right now. Thank goodness."

"Well, I'm sure he misses his daddy."

Grissom shook his head. "I'm not his …" He trailed off and smiled. "Sara always calls me his daddy, too."

"Because that's what you are," Catherine said, taking his arm and leading him to the elevators. "Come on. I'm going to drive you home, and you are going to get some sleep. Come back tomorrow and see her when you're wide awake."

Grissom looked at his watch. "Cath, shift starts in –"

"You're taking tonight off," she said. "Take the next _month _off, if you'd like. I'll keep things running while you're with Sara."

Grissom exhaled slowly. "Catherine … thank you."

She smiled. "For now, I'll take care of the lab … you take care of Sara."

* * *

Grissom had to admit that Catherine was right about one thing: he needed rest. As he climbed out of her car, he suddenly felt completely exhausted. Waving to Catherine, he made his way to the front door and entered the house.

It was so quiet. Grissom couldn't remember the last time his house had been so quiet. Without Sara and Hank there, coming home felt … empty.

Sighing, he reminded himself that he could pick Hank up the next day and bring Sara home only one day later. For the time being, the silence was probably a good thing. He needed sleep.

His journey to the bedroom was stopped, however, by the blinking light on the answering machine. He paused to listen to his message.

"_Hi, Gil, this is Laura Sidle. I just wanted to let you know that I've booked a flight, and I'll be arriving at 6:15 tomorrow night. I've made hotel arrangements, too, so, I'll just go straight there from the airport. I'll see you tomorrow."_

Grissom frowned as the message ended. _Hotel arrangements? Why would she need a hotel? _

Sighing again, he realized that Laura was trying not to impose upon him. He smiled slightly. With as stressful as their lives were becoming, he was certain that a houseguest – particularly one whose mission was to care for Sara – wouldn't be a bother.

He took Sara's phone out of his pocket again and turned it on. He went to the call log, and redialed Laura's number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Laura, this is Gil Grissom," he said.

"Hello," she said again. "Did you get my message?"

"I just got it now," he said. "You'll be in tomorrow evening?"

"Yes," she replied. "I wasn't sure where I should go … if Sara will still be in the hospital, or –"

"Yes, they're keeping her for two days," he said, thinking that he now understood why Sara had a tendency to over-talk. "I was a bit surprised to hear you say that you have a hotel room."

"Well, I didn't want to impose or be a bother …"

"You won't be," Grissom said. "We'd love to have you stay with us."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," he said. "I'll come to the airport to pick you up tomorrow, and I'll take you straight to the hospital so you can see Sara."

"Oh, Gil, you don't have to do all that. I'll get a cab."

"It's fine," he said. "Sara will probably need a break from me by then anyway."

Laura chuckled. "Does she know I'm coming?"

"No," Grissom said. "I only had a few minutes with her when she came out of surgery. I'll tell her tomorrow morning."

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"See you tomorrow," Grissom agreed.

"And, Gil – thank you again."

"You're welcome," Grissom replied. "Bye."

"Bye."

Grissom put Sara's phone down on the counter. Finally, he could go to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Grissom woke buzzing with nervous energy. He had to clean the house in anticipation of Laura's arrival, make sure the guest room was ready to accommodate its first guest, pick up the dog, buy Sara a gift, and make it to the hospital by ten o'clock. Concerned that he'd never be able to get everything done, he threw back the covers. Looking at the clock, he was shocked to see that it was only five thirty.

"Well, shift is well underway," he muttered to himself, suppressing the urge to call Catherine and see how things were going.

"You can talk to her later," he told himself. "Let's get started on the to do list."

He climbed out of bed, ready to begin his very busy day.

* * *

Promptly at ten o'clock, Grissom walked into Sara's room carrying a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped package. He was pleased to see that she was sitting up in bed; her eyes lit up as he walked into the room.

"Hey, sexy," she said with a grin.

"Hi," he replied. "You look like you're feeling better today."

"I am," Sara said. "And, I think it's more than just the drugs this time."

Grissom chuckled. "I brought you some things."

"So I see," she said with a smile. She reached out to take the flowers he offered her, running her fingertips over their petals. "These are gorgeous, Gil. Thank you."

He smiled. "Whitman said, 'A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.' But, just in case …" He handed over the package.

Smiling up at him, Sara tore the wrapping aside. "_Angels and Demons_! You remembered!"

Grissom laughed. "Well, it would be tough to forget. You've mentioned it repeatedly for the past couple months."

She made a face at him, then smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Now, come here so I can give you a better thank you."

Grinning, Grissom leaned down to kiss her. He broke the kiss after a moment, then touched his lips against hers again.

"I love you."

She smiled. "I love you, too." She giggled. "You know, for someone who took something like half his life to be able to say that to me, you've said it an awful lot in the past couple days."

"Well, priorities can shift, my dear," he replied, sitting down in the chair next to her bed. "And, Sara, I _do_ love you. I don't want you to question that."

She grinned, warmth spreading all through her. "I won't. I don't want you to question that I love you, either."

"I never have."

"Well, I have been a bit more upfront about it than you."

He heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Must we always go back to the ways I disappoint you?"

Sara giggled. "You've more than made up for it."

"Good." He paused. "While we're on this topic, there's something you should know …"

Sara's eyes widened at the seriousness of his tone. "What?"

"I need to confess …"

"Confess what, Gil?"

Realizing that he was watching her blood pressure spike on the monitor in front of him, Grissom smiled abashedly, trying to alleviate the tension. "I may have … no, I _did_ tell our colleagues about our relationship."

Sara's eyes widened and she began to laugh. "Oh, no. What happened?"

Grissom smiled, pleased she was taking it so well. "Well, as Catherine said, it was the stress of the moment. After we got the miniature –"

Sara frowned. "What miniature?"

Grissom closed his eyes. _She doesn't know!_ How could she? By the time he found it, she had already been taken. "Natalie … left us a miniature of the car … with you …"

Sara's smile dropped. "Oh."

"It was a good thing," Grissom said quickly. "It helped us figure out what had happened."

"I suppose …"

Grissom hurried to continue, not wanting her to dwell on the idea of being the subject of one of Natalie's miniatures. "Anyway, as we were looking at it, I sort of let slip that … that you're the only … you're the only person I've ever loved."

The sun seemed to come out on Sara's face again as she smiled.

"So, now everyone knows," Grissom said. "I didn't mean to tell them … I didn't even realize I had done it until after the fact."

"I'm glad you did," Sara said.

"You're glad?" Grissom repeated blankly. "Sara, aside from the romance of it all, we've been keeping this a secret because –"

"I know," she interrupted. "And, we can deal with all that later. But, Gil …" She trailed off to collect her thoughts, then continued, "I remember what it was like when Nicky was taken. You were our rock. You held us all together, and we all drew our strength from you. And, that was as it should have been. But, this time … I have a feeling you needed far more strength and support than you could give. And, if you hadn't told them, no one would have known how much support you needed. So, I'm glad you told them. I'm glad they were there for you to lean on."

Grissom took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. "We'll deal with the rest later."

"Yeah," Sara said, her eyes twinkling. "Unless, of course, we can persuade the entire lab to keep it from Ecklie."

Grissom laughed at that. "I doubt it."

"Me, too." Sara looked away.

"Hey," Grissom said, tightening his fingers around hers, "what's wrong?"

"She made a miniature?" Sara asked in a small, trembling voice.

"Oh, Sara … I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you."

"No," she said, raising her chin slightly. "I needed to know. If you hadn't, I would have been upset with you for keeping it from me. I just … I guess I didn't realize how premeditated it was."

"She's in custody now," Grissom said. "She won't be able to hurt us anymore."

"Us," Sara repeated softly. She looked into his eyes. "When she had me in the car, taking me out into the desert, she said something …"

"What?"

"Something about you … I think she said that Ernie loved her more than you love me, or something like that. I thought that maybe …"

Grissom's eyes clouded over for a moment. He looked down at their joined hands; when he looked back up at her, his eyes were over-bright. "Sara … I'm so sorry."

She frowned. "What?"

Grissom swallowed. "This … what happened to you … it was my fault."

"Unless you're a serial killer who makes miniatures, I doubt that," Sara said in a feeble attempt at humor.

"No, Sara, it was …" He paused, trying to find the words to tell her. "When we got the miniature, the guys processed it. They found a VIN on the car, and we traced it to the Mustang she had used …" He swallowed again. "Did you recognize the car?"

Sara shook her head. "Should I?"

"It was from a case we worked," he said. "Remember? Red Mustang, DWI, driver fatality …"

"Oh, yeah," she said. "That was the first case we worked after Cammie … after the case with the showgirls."

"Right," Grissom agreed. "We pulled up the crime scene photos, and found Natalie in the crowd."

"Well, that's a whole new level of creepy. Was she stalking –?"

"If she was stalking one of us, it was me," Grissom said. "She … she blames me for what happened to Ernie."

"You didn't kill Ernie," Sara said before he could continue. "You may have watched it happen, but you're hardly the reason why he shot himself."

"I know that," Grissom said. "But, obviously, Natalie doesn't feel that way. This isn't the first miniature she sent directly to me, you know. We've known since February that this was personal."

"True," Sara agreed. "But what does the Mustang have to do with that?"

"Sara," Grissom said, his face twisting again, "we looked at the crime scene photos, and I remembered the scene … I … I touched you that day. I asked to use your camera, and pulled it off your shoulder, touching your arm the whole way down."

"Oh," Sara said as the memory flashed through her mind. "I remember."

"You were worried about me touching you at a crime scene, but I said no one was watching. You were right, Sara, and I was wrong. Natalie saw us, and she realized that … that you were the one person whose death could destroy me. Because of that moment, she targeted you, she took you from me, she …" He trailed off, exhaling as the tears gathered in his eyes. "Sara, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that she hurt you like this because of me."

"Hey," Sara said, sliding her hand out of his so she could touch his face. "Gil, listen to me. This isn't your fault. Okay? You're not the lunatic here. You're not the one who kidnapped me. If she hadn't seen us then, she probably would have found out another way. We only tried to hide when we were at work, and I know we've both slipped up at scenes and even at the lab. She could have seen us in the park together or out for dinner or … anywhere. If she was determined to do this, she was going to make it happen, and there's nothing we could have done to stop it."

Grissom exhaled again, and leaned across the distance between them to kiss her. "Still … I'm sorry that you have to suffer so much because of me."

"Hey, in case you missed it, I chose to be here," Sara said. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. "And, you know what? You're totally worth a broken arm."

Grissom smiled and kissed her again.


	100. Reunion

A/N: I can't believe this story now has 100 chapters! That's unbelievable! Trust me when I say that I never thought it would wind up this long. I can't believe you've hung around this long with me … and, I'm so excited that you have. Thank you for that!

This chapter ended up shorter than I expected, but that's probably because I only covered half of what I intended with it. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Reunion_

"There is one other thing I need to tell you."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

Grissom smiled. "I don't think so. Yesterday, while you were in surgery, I made a couple phone calls."

"Um … okay …"

"I called your mother," Grissom said. "I thought she'd want to know what was going on with you."

"O-oh," Sara said softly. "Is she panicking? Should I call her?"

"Um … yes and no."

Sara frowned.

"She's concerned," Grissom said. "And, in about an hour, she'll be in Vegas."

"What?" Sara exclaimed. "She's coming to see us?"

"Yes," Grissom said. "She wants to help take care of you."

A smile lit up Sara's face. "She'll get to see our house! She'll get to meet Hank! She'll …" Her eyes began to glow. "She'll get to meet _you_." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, I can't wait!"

"Well, you don't have to wait all that long," Grissom said. "I need to go to the airport to pick her up. Do you want me to bring her straight here?"

"Yes," Sara said without hesitation. She looked thoughtful. "You'll have to talk her out of staying at hotel," she said. "I know how she is. She'll think that staying with us will be a burden, or something equally ridiculous. She probably already has reservations, and –"

"Sara, I've already taken care of it."

"What?"

"When she called last night to tell me about her flight, she mentioned having reserved a room in a hotel. I told her that she could stay with us – and, that she won't be a bother."

"You are so wonderful," Sara said. "Come here."

Smiling, Grissom leaned across to kiss her. Sara's good hand came up to the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair as she held him close to deepen the kiss. Grissom was wondering about the consequences of joining her on the bed when –

"Okay, seriously, guys, when someone tells you to _get a room_, this is _not_ the type of room they mean!"

Faces flushing with embarrassment, Grissom and Sara practically jumped away from each other. Greg and Catherine stood in the doorway of Sara's room. Greg was laughing at the compromising position in which they had found their colleagues, but Catherine was barely able to contain her surprise. It was one thing to know that Grissom and Sara were dating, but it was another to _know_ it.

"Greg, your timing sucks," Sara finally said, laughing.

"I'm not so sure about that," he replied with a cheeky grin. "How you feeling?"

"Much better today."

"Good." Greg leaned down to kiss Sara's cheek, handing her a gift bag. "I brought you a present."

She smiled. "Thanks, Greg."

"You're welcome. Open it! It won't bite, I promise."

Smiling again and rolling her eyes, Sara pulled the tissue paper out of the bag and reached in for the gift. Eyes wide, she pulled a stuffed panda bear with the softest fur she could imagine out of the bag.

"Oh, Greg! He's so cute!"

Greg grinned. "I thought you might want someone to keep you company when the nurses kick all your guests out at night."

"Come here," Sara said.

Blushing slightly, Greg leaned down to hug her. Sara turned her head to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you," she said as he straightened up. "This is very sweet."

"You're welcome," Greg said, still looking a bit embarrassed at her reaction to his gift.

Once Greg had backed away, Catherine leaned down to hug Sara. "I brought you something, too," she said, holding out a wrapped package.

Smiling, Sara accepted the gift. "Thanks, Cat."

She tore off the paper to reveal two DVDs – both featuring Antonio Banderas. She giggled and looked up to see Catherine grinning.

"You remembered."

"I _agreed_," Catherine replied with a grin, thinking back to the "hottest movie star" discussion they had had during a particularly slow shift. "And, I thought you might need something to amuse yourself before you're allowed to come back to work."

Sara looked up at Grissom. "Did any of the hundreds of doctors I've seen tell you when I'll be allowed back to work?"

"No," he said. "I thought they'd probably tell us before you're discharged."

"I hope so," she said with a smile. "But, if they neglect to tell us, I'm so back at work in three days."

"Sara …"

"I'm kidding."

Giving her a look that said he wasn't totally sure he believed her, Grissom looked at his watch.

"You need to leave, don't you?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Grissom replied. "I'll be back with your mother in a little bit."

"Drive carefully," Sara said, turning her face up for a kiss.

Grissom smiled and leaned down to give her a chaste peck. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye."

Grissom walked out of the room, and Sara turned to her guests with a slightly embarrassed, yet a little defiant, smile.

"Shocked?"

Greg laughed. "Please."

Catherine looked at him in shock. "Wait, wait, _wait_! _You_ knew, too?"

Greg laughed again. "Catherine, Catherine, Catherine. Did you honestly think Sara could keep something like that from the best student she's ever had?"

"Hey, wait, don't say it like that," Sara laughed. "I didn't tell him, Cat. He figured it out on his own."

"That's why I said I was the best student you've ever had."

"You're the _only_ student I've ever had."

"Well, it does cut down on the competition."

"I don't get it," Catherine said, shaking her head. "Brass knew … Greg knew … I must be in the minority."

"No, there are plenty of people who had no idea," Sara said. "That was, um, sort of how we wanted it."

"So I've been told."

"You're not mad at us over this, are you?" Sara asked.

"No," Catherine said. "No, I'm not. I want both of you to be happy, and I've known since you came to Vegas that this was what you both wanted." She smiled. "I've known since _before_ you came to Vegas, actually. I remember when Grissom would get email from you … he'd just light up. He kept telling me that you were _just a student_, but I knew better."

Sara smiled.

"I know, too, that you needed secrecy. And, the more people who know, the greater chance something would get back to someone who could make your lives miserable." She looked thoughtful. "Speaking of …"

Sara sighed. "Any chance Ecklie hasn't heard yet?"

"This is what I love about Sara," Greg said with a grin. "She's always such an optimist."

"Yeah, Sara, I think –"

"Sara! Up for some more visitors?"

Sara's eyes lit up as Nick and Warrick appeared in her doorway, both carrying flowers to add to her collection.

"Hi," she said, reaching up to pull them down for hugs. "I'm so excited to see you!"

"You're looking good, Sar," Nick said, kissing her cheek.

"That's a blatant lie," she said, laughing. "But, thank you."

"Nah, he's telling the truth," Warrick said, taking his turn to hug her. "You look good enough to spring out of this place."

"Not until the day after tomorrow," she said. "At least, that's what they're saying today. Maybe they'll move it up …"

"Do what they say," Nick said. "You need time to recuperate."

Noting the seriousness underlying his smile, Sara nodded. If anyone knew what she needed to recover from an abduction, it was Nick.

"I'll do what the doctors tell me," she said. "I promise."

"Good girl," Greg said. "We need you well again, so you can get back to helping us catch the bad guys."

"But, take your time," Nick cautioned. "When you're ready, you'll know. Trust me on this one."

"I do," Sara said. "Believe me, I do."

* * *

Grissom felt a bit of trepidation as he walked into McCarran's baggage claim area. Although he had seen pictures of Sara and her mother, he wasn't entirely positive he would be able to recognize her in the crowd.

He shouldn't have worried. He recognized Laura Sidle the moment he saw her. It was like seeing an older version of Sara.

"Excuse me," he said, stepping up to her. "Are you Laura Sidle?"

Her face, which had been full of the same "what if I can't recognize him?" tension, relaxed into a smile. "Yes."

"I'm Gil Grissom," he said, reaching out to shake her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," she said. "I was afraid I'd never find you in all these people."

Grissom smiled. "I had the same thought." He took her suitcase. "We just need to go this way to the car."

"Okay," she said, falling into step beside him. "How's Sara?"

"She's doing as well as can be expected – maybe even more than. She's very excited to see you," he said as they walked out into the bright sunshine. "I'm going to take you straight to the hospital …" Sudden concern gripped him, and he trailed off. "Unless, of course, you're tired and would rather go home to rest for a bit …"

Laura shook her head. "I came here for my daughter. The sooner I can see her, the better."

Grissom smiled as he put her suitcase into the trunk and then opened the passenger door for her. "I'll do my best to get you there quickly."

* * *

"So, then, the guy says that it shouldn't count as a murder because no one in the neighborhood liked the guy, anyway."

"What?" Sara asked in shock.

Nick nodded, backing up Greg's account of the interrogation they had run the previous night. "It's true. He said he was doing the neighborhood a favor."

Sara laughed. "Why did everyone hate him?"

"I believe it was because he was 'creepy,'" Greg said, air quoting the last word.

"You've got to be kidding!"

"Hey, just _try_ to tell me that you don't believe it."

Sara laughed again. "I'd never dream of questioning you."

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Don't feed his ego, Sara. Just because you have tonight off, doesn't mean the rest of us do. _No one _wants to work with an inflated Greg."

"Hey!" Greg exclaimed.

"There's a reason we've always tried to keep you in your place, man," Warrick said with a grin.

They were all still laughing when Grissom walked into Sara's room.

"Am I breaking up the party?" he asked.

"You're back!" Sara exclaimed. "That means that – _Mom_!"

"Hi, sweetie," Laura said, entering behind Grissom.

The rest of the team jumped back to allow Laura access to Sara. She crossed the room quickly and leaned down to carefully hug Sara, kissing her cheek.

"Oh, baby," she said, pulling back and running her hand down Sara's bruised cheek. "Look at you."

"I know," Sara sighed. "I look awful."

Laura shook her head. "You're my beautiful little princess."

Sara smiled. "You're like Gil – you have to say that."

Laura smiled and smoothed back Sara's hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Sara said. "Ready to go home."

"In two days," Grissom said.

Sara looked past her mother smile at him. "In two days," she agreed. She looked around at her other visitors, and her smile widened. "Mom, these are my friends and coworkers …" She smiled and blinked against the tears that threatened to fill her eyes. "My family."

Laura turned to greet them. "Hi," she said. "Laura Sidle."

"This is Catherine Willows, Greg Sanders, Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes," Sara said as they took it in turns to shake Laura's hand. "They rescued me."

Catherine smiled and grabbed Nick's arm. "Actually, Nicky gets the credit for that one, Sara," she said. "He's the one who saw the light reflecting off that mirror you were carrying and directed Sofia to drive over to you." She gave him a smile. "He gets all the credit."

Nick shook his head. "We _all_ get the credit," he said. "We're a team, guys, and everyone worked together to find Sara."

Sara's eyes filled with tears again as she looked at Nick. "Thank you," she whispered.

He dipped his head in silent acknowledgement of her words.

"Well, listen, we'd better let you guys have some family time," Catherine said. "Besides, I know of four of us that need to get some sleep before we go to work tonight."

"Aw, Mom …" Greg teased.

Catherine laughed. "Sorry, Greg."

"Thank you all so much," Sara said. "For the gifts, for visiting … for everything."

"You're welcome, Sara," Catherine said, leaning down to hug her. "We'll see you again soon."

Sara nodded her agreement as she hugged all her friends. Nick was the last to hug her; she clung to him tightly for a long moment. As he drew back, Nick kissed her cheek.

"We'll talk later, okay?"

"Okay," Sara said, sniffling a bit as he straightened up.

Calling goodbye again, the team filed from Sara's room, leaving her with Grissom and Laura. She looked between them with a smile.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to introduce you to one another," she said. "This really isn't how I had ever imagined your first meeting would go."

Grissom smiled. "Well, I think it worked out fine."

"Have you taken her to the house yet?"

"No. We came straight here from the airport."

Sara sighed. "I won't get to show you around my house, either, Mom. Or introduce you to Hank."

Laura smiled. "Don't worry about it, Sara. I just want you to concentrate on getting well."

"I am, I am."

"I don't think any of us are giving her a choice," Grissom said, winking at her.

"Yeah," Sara said. "For as many times as the guys told me to take my time coming back to work, I'm a little concerned they don't want me back."

"They don't want you to hurt yourself," Grissom said. "You need to wait until you're strong enough, Sara. Remember how you felt when I let Greg go back into the field before you thought he was ready?"

"That was …" She trailed off.

"It wasn't different, and you know it," Grissom said. He took her hand. "We all want you well again, Sara. We're all worried about you."

She smiled and leaned forward until her forehead was resting against his. "I'll take it easy. I promise."

Grissom smiled and pulled back. "Good. I wouldn't want to have to put you under house arrest."

Sara rolled her eyes. "You'd do it, too."

Laura chuckled, reminding them that she was there. "I don't think we'll need to do anything that drastic. I was thinking more of tying her to a chair."

Sara laughed. "This isn't fair! You're ganging up on me!"

"We _know_ you," Laura said. "Sara, even you have to admit that you're not a good patient."

"You sound like Mary."

"Oh, speaking of Mary …"

Sara looked at Grissom with narrowed eyes. He smiled.

"I called her yesterday, too, to tell her what had happened. She wants to come out for a visit when you're stronger."

"Oh! I promised her I'd try to talk to you into going out to visit them this summer."

"Yeah, she mentioned that," Grissom said. "But, now, after what's happened, she wants to come here to see you."

"I'm making everyone go through so much," Sara said, shaking her head.

"We all just want to help you, Sara," Laura said. "Let us."

"I don't want –"

"Hey," Grissom said, silencing her as he took her hand again. "It's okay to need help. It's okay to admit that you're not Wonder Woman. We love you, Sara, and we want to help you. Like your mom said … let us."

She smiled slightly. "I'll try. I'm not promising it'll be easy. But … I'll do my best."

"That's all we can ask."


	101. Devotion

A/N: I hope you enjoy this update! Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI or the Cartoon Network.

* * *

_Devotion_

"My lady, your chariot awaits."

Sara's eyes lit up as Grissom walked into her room pushing a wheelchair. "Seriously?"

He laughed. "Seriously. The doctors have just finished signing all the paperwork. You are officially released."

"Finally!" Her smile lit up the room.

Grissom laughed again. "Sara, it's only about two hours later than we thought you'd be released."

"Still," she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, "I just want to go _home_."

"I know," Grissom said. "Here, let me help."

He helped her into the wheelchair, making sure that she was comfortable.

"Do you have anything that we need to take with us?" he asked

"Just me," she said. "Mom took everything else home earlier."

"We're all set, then?"

"We're all set," she affirmed. "Drive on."

"You're sure you're okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "If we're in for two weeks of you asking me if I'm okay, I'm going to scream. You know that, right?"

Grissom smiled. "Yes, dear. Just being cautious."

"Well, knock it off and take me home!"

Laughing, Grissom pushed her out of the room. "You do realize that you're in for two weeks of nothing _but_ home, right? You may be screaming to leave by the end of it."

"Oh, I know I will," Sara replied. "But, I'd far rather be at home than here."

Grissom smiled. "I'd rather have you at home, too."

Sara turned to smile at him. "Mom's at home waiting for us?"

"Yeah. She said she wanted to get everything ready for you."

"I'm afraid to ask."

"I didn't," Grissom said, stopping in front of his car. "I figured she'd know better than I do what you'd need."

Sara shook her head. "Doubtful. I haven't lived with her in years."

"She's your mother, Sara. She wants –"

"I know she wants to take care of me," Sara interrupted. "And, I'll let her. I'll be a good girl. I promise."

"Good," Grissom said, setting the brake on the wheelchair.

After opening the passenger door for her, he held out his hands to help her to her feet. Smiling slightly at what she considered the unnecessary assistance, Sara took his hand. As soon as she was up, she found herself grateful for his support.

"Whoa."

"Careful," Grissom cautioned. "You haven't stood up very much in the past few days. You're probably weak."

"Thanks, Doctor," she said, clinging to his hands as he helped her into the car.

Grissom smiled and shut her door. Once he was seated behind the wheel, he turned to look at her.

"Ready to go home?"

"_Yes_."

* * *

When Grissom pulled to a stop in front of their house, both Laura and Hank came out to meet them. Sara grinned as she grabbed Grissom's hand to pull herself out of the car.

"What, no ticker tape parade?"

"Only because Greg didn't know what time you'd be home, I'm sure," Grissom replied with a smile.

"Good point."

"Sara, how are you feeling?" Laura asked, crossing to join them with Hank bounding ahead of her.

"Fine," Sara replied, clutching Grissom's arm as they walked slowly to the house. "Tired," she conceded. "And, like I've forgotten how to walk."

"Too much bed rest," Laura said. "We'll get you up and moving again in no time."

"That's what I want," Sara agreed. "What I _really_ want," she added, turning slightly toward Grissom, "is to go back to work."

"Two weeks, Sara," he said firmly. "Your doctors all said two weeks."

She sighed as they walked into the house. "I know. I was just hoping …"

"I'm not letting you back in the field – or even in the lab – until your doctors say it's safe. I wouldn't let Nick or Greg back sooner than they were allowed. You know I can't change the rules for you. And, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't. Your health comes first, Sara. _Always_."

"I just … feel like I need to get back up on the horse."

"You will," Grissom said, easing her onto the couch. "In two weeks."

Sara smiled, conceding defeat. "Okay."

"What do you need, sweetheart?" Laura asked. "A drink? Something to eat?" She looked at her watch. "Do you need to take any medication at this point?"

Sara shook her head. "I just want … to lie on my own couch and watch my own tv."

Grissom chuckled. "I think that can be arranged," he said, handing her the remote.

Hank sat down next to the couch and dropped his head on the cushion next to her. Sara grinned at him and scratched his head.

"I've missed you, buddy. Have Daddy and Grandma been taking good care of you?"

Laura's eyebrows shot up. "I'm the dog's _grandmother_?"

"Well, adoptive grandmother," Sara said. "He was Grissom's dog before we got together."

"Oh, that makes it better," she said, looking at Grissom.

He laughed. "Sara's been calling me his daddy since the first time she met him. She seems to think it's cute."

"So do you," she teased. "Just admit it."

"I won't admit anything," Grissom said, wandering out of the room. "I'm going to start dinner."

Laura looked surprised. "He cooks?"

"Oh, yes." Sara closed her eyes in bliss. "Just wait, Mom … you've never eaten anything like Grissom's cooking." She gasped. "Griss!"

"What?" he asked, looking up from the kitchen in alarm.

"Tomorrow, can you make French toast for breakfast? I want my mom to try it."

"Sure, if it's what you want." He grinned. "I notice that you're requesting it at a time when there's no way you can help make it."

"Pure coincidence," she said dismissively.

"Mm-hm," Grissom hummed. "How do you feel about a frittata for dinner? That's light, so it probably shouldn't bother your stomach."

"Yeah, that's fine," Sara said. She giggled. "You're not worried about the French toast tomorrow?"

"I'm hoping that you know yourself and your system well enough to decide if you can really eat it or not. If you can, that's great. If not … more for your mom and me."

Sara giggled again. "So compassionate."

"He is," Laura said, her eyes warm. She sat down across from Sara and smiled at her. "You've got a good man, princess," she said quietly. "A very good man."

Sara smiled back. "I know."

* * *

They ate in the living room to save Sara from walking up and down the stairs more than was necessary. Although she pointed out that it was her arm that was injured, Grissom pointed out that her legs and ankles had taken a beating, too. Knowing they were covered in bruises, Sara didn't protest further.

"Let me clean up," Laura said as they gradually put their forks on their empty plates.

"How about if I let you help?" Grissom said. "I feel bad making you fumble through the kitchen trying to find where we keep everything."

Laura turned to Sara, who was swinging her legs up to stretch out across the couch. "Will you be okay on your own?"

Sara just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "You're going to be down the steps, Mom, not in Africa. I'm sure I'll be able to call you if I need you."

Laura chuckled. "Well, _this_ brings back memories of the little girl who was such a pain in my ass when she was sick," she said.

"Hey!"

"Sara, you have to admit that you're a terrible patient," Grissom said with a laugh. "I think you made more than one nurse crazy the past few days."

"You always have been," Laura added.

Sara made a face. "You're ganging up on me again. Go down into the kitchen and become best friends. I'll sit here and watch tv."

"Well, as long as you're happy," Grissom teased.

"Don't make me stab you with my fork, Dr. Grissom."

Still laughing, Grissom helped Laura gather up their dishes and carry them to the kitchen. Sara flipped through the channels until she came to the Cartoon Network. Figuring that mindless amusement was just what the doctor ordered, she settled back to watch.

The next thing she felt was her hand being placed on her chest. Snuffling slightly, she opened her eyes to look into Grissom's face.

"Hey," she said. "I guess I fell asleep."

"Yeah," he said. "Do you want to go to bed? You'd probably be more comfortable. Your hand wouldn't fall off the bed, at least."

Sara smiled. "Okay."

"Here, let me help you up."

Sara held onto Grissom as he pulled her to her feet. He held her to his chest for a moment.

"Steady?" he asked.

Sara nodded against him and stepped back. "I'm good."

"Here, sweetie, let me help you get ready for bed," Laura said, stepped forward.

Sara wanted to protest that Grissom could do that, but remembered her promise. She'd let her mother help her.

"Okay," she said again.

She began her slow progress to the master bedroom with Laura at her side, poised to catch her if she tipped to one side or the other. They went into the bathroom together and Sara gave Laura a slightly apologetic smile.

"I'm still working on doing most of this stuff with one hand," she admitted.

"That's why I'm here, sweetheart," Laura said. "Want me to help you wash your face?"

Sighing over the fact that she suddenly felt like a toddler, Sara nodded. She hated not being able to do things for herself.

_Not for long, _she reminded herself. _You'll be back to normal in no time._

After they had finished all Sara's bathroom rituals, they returned to the bedroom, where Laura helped Sara out of her clothes and into her pajamas. Once she had settled her in bed, she leaned down to kiss her daughter's forehead.

"Thank you, Sara."

Sara frowned. "For what?"

"For letting me get you ready for bed and tuck you in," Laura said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I … I guess I've missed it."

Sara leaned up to hug her mother with her one functioning arm. "Thank you, Mom, for being here for me. I love you."

"I love you, too, princess," Laura said. "Good night."

"Good night."

Laura left the room, softly closing the door behind her.

Sara sank down into her pillows, relishing the feel of her own sheets under her and her own blankets over her. She had missed her bed more than she had realized.

* * *

What seemed like only a few moments later, the door opened again and Grissom entered the room. He moved hesitantly, trying to feel his way across the room in the dark.

"I'm awake, Gil," Sara said softly.

His eyebrows shot up. "You came to bed almost two hours ago. Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I'm having too much fun being excited about sleeping in my own bed," she said.

Shaking his head, Grissom switched on his bedside lamp and began taking off his clothes.

"You're coming to bed awfully early," Sara commented.

"Well, tomorrow is my last day off," Grissom said. "I want to make an effort to get back on schedule."

"That would include staying up all night, you know."

"I don't want to sleep through the entire day tomorrow. I figure that if I go to bed in the evening today, I'll probably be able to pull off the afternoon tomorrow."

"Okay," Sara said as he settled into the bed next to her.

"Sara?" Grissom asked hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable or hurt you, but …?"

Realizing what he wanted, Sara slid closer to him until she was cuddled against his side. Sighing contentedly, Grissom put his arms around her to hold her to him.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked.

"No," Sara said. She pressed a kiss against his chest. "I love this."

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Me, too."

They drifted off to sleep together, both content with the knowledge that they were exactly where they belonged.

* * *

When Sara's eyes opened the next morning, she was alone in bed. The sounds of soft voices drifted to her, which was slightly odd. Not accustomed to sharing the house with anyone other than Grissom and Hank, she was used to hearing one voice as Grissom talked to the dog. Two was not quite as normal for her.

Smiling slightly, she lifted herself up to a sitting position. Pleased that she had done that on her own, she got to her feet and padded to the kitchen, where Grissom and Laura were having coffee and chatting quietly.

"Good morning!" Laura, who was facing the hallway, saw Sara first.

"Good morning," she replied.

"How are you feeling?" Grissom asked.

"Much better," she replied. "Sleeping in my own bed is exactly what I needed."

"Are you hungry?" Grissom asked. "Still up for some French toast?"

"Yes, definitely," she said. "No backing out on me now!"

He laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"He's already been out shopping this morning," Laura offered.

Sara looked at Grissom quizzically.

"We needed some things for the French toast," he said. "And, it's better for me to be up earlier."

Sara laughed. "Our definition of 'early' is the middle of the night, Mom. He's trying to adjust enough to be functional at work tonight."

"Ah," Laura said. "Makes sense." She slid off her chair. "How about I help you get cleaned up and dressed?"

"Good idea," Grissom said. "I should have breakfast ready by the time you're done."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Oh, I forgot. Mom can't be in the kitchen while you're cooking, huh?"

Grissom shook his head. "Nope."

Laura looked between them as though they had lost their minds. "What?"

"The French toast recipe is a Grissom family secret," Sara explained. "I didn't get to be in the kitchen while he made it until we moved in together."

Laura laughed. "You two are too much."

"Hey, it's his family secret, not mine," Sara said with a shrug. "Come on, Mom. I think I need some help to take a bath."

Grissom mentally groaned at the loss of not being the one to help Sara with her bath. "I'll call you when breakfast is ready," he said.

"Yeah, yeah," Sara said. "You have fun cooking."

He smiled. "I will."

* * *

Going to work that night was nearly impossible for Grissom. He hated the idea of leaving Sara while she was still recovering. Laura would be with her, though, and Sara looked so tired that he was fairly certain that she would fall asleep as soon as he was out the door.

"Take care of yourself while I'm gone," he whispered, hugging her tightly before leaving.

Sara giggled. "_You're_ the one going out to fight crime. I'll be safe here at home."

"I know. Still …"

She smiled and tipped her face up to kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he replied, kissing her again. He released her gently and trailed his hand over her cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll be here."

Grissom gave her a bittersweet smile, thinking back less than a week to the utter terror of the realization that she wasn't _there_. He shook his head slightly. It was over. She was _there_, and she always would be. He took her hands, gently kissing her palms.

Finally pulling himself away from Sara, he called goodbye to Laura, who was in the kitchen, and made his exit.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Laura came up the stairs to join Sara on the couch. Sara smiled and curled her feet up to give her mother more room.

"You've got a good man, Sara."

Sara's smile widened. "So you've said."

Laura returned her smile. "I'm so glad that I could be here and see the two of you together like this," she said. "I've always worried about you, Sara, being so far from home out here in Las Vegas, but now … I see that I don't need to worry. Gil is … perfect for you. And, he loves you. He loves you so much."

Sara nodded. "I love him, Mom."

"I can see that." She looked away. "Sara …"

"Yes?"

"Do you know what my greatest fear was when you were a little girl?"

Sara frowned, thinking their conversation had taken a very odd turn. "No."

"I was terrified that you'd end up like me." Tears filled her eyes. "I chose to stay with your father for all those years because I loved him, but every single day, I set the worst example possible for you. I was so afraid … I was afraid you'd think that was normal. That that was the way a husband was supposed to treat his wife."

"I did," Sara admitted. "For a long, long time, I thought that all families were like ours. Then … after …" She swallowed her tears. "I learned that there are other ways to live."

"I can see that now," Laura said, taking Sara's hand and squeezing it. "Being here with you now, seeing you with Gil … Sara, this is my dream for you come true. I'm so glad, princess. So very, very glad."

* * *

"Welcome back."

Grissom smiled as Catherine walked into his office. "Thank you." He gestured to the organized stacks on his desk. "I see you've been busy."

"Well, I wanted you to come back to _some_ semblance of order." She shook her head as she took a seat across from him. "You know, you're as bad about your desk and paperwork as Lindsey is about her room and her clothes."

Grissom chuckled. "Well, thank you for all you did."

She smiled. "It was my pleasure." She paused. "How's Sara?"

"Good," Grissom said. "I think being home is really helping her. Her mom's taking good care of her."

"I'm sure you are, too."

Grissom smiled. "When Laura lets me."

"How long is she staying?"

"It sort of depends on Sara. Laura said that once Sara gets to a reasonable amount of independence, she'll feel comfortable leaving."

"How do you feel about that?"

"It's fine," Grissom said. "_Really_," he added at her incredulous look. "I feel better coming to work knowing that Laura is there with her."

"That makes sense," Catherine acknowledged. She stood up. "Shift starts in fifteen minutes. We'll see you in the break room?"

"I'll be there."

* * *

When Grissom arrived home the next morning, Sara and Laura were sitting in the kitchen, sipping tea and eating muffins. Sara's hair was still wet from the bath her mother had helped her take.

"You're home!" Sara exclaimed as he walked into the house. "How was work?"

"Fine," he replied, descending the steps to kiss her. "I worked a double homicide with Warrick and Greg."

"And you're home this early?" Sara asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," he said. "It's going to be a long case, so we agreed to take it easy." He grinned. "I think they're trying to be kind, since it was my first night back."

"Well, don't expect that kind of treatment for long," Sara joked.

"Oh, no," Grissom said. "I'm sure they'll be back to normal tonight."

* * *

As the week drew to a close, Sara's independence reached the point where Laura felt comfortable leaving her on her own. Although Sara was sad to see her mother preparing to leave, she knew that she had her own life to live. And, Sara had to admit that she was looking forward to only sharing the house with Grissom again.

On the last day of Laura's stay, Grissom arrived home to find Sara alone in the house. She was sitting on the couch, still dressed in the cotton pants and tank top she had worn to bed.

"Hi," he said, leaning down to kiss her. "Where's your mom?"

"She went out to buy Las Vegas souvenirs for her coworkers," she said. She shrugged. "I guess it's something they do."

"That's nice."

"Mm-hm."

Grissom sat down next to her. "So, um, not that I'm trying to be pushy, but … why aren't you dressed?"

Sara sighed. "I know that I can give myself a bath and get dressed with one arm, which is why Mom left before I was dressed, but it's truly a pain in the ass. I'm still talking myself into it."

Grissom gave her a smile. "Well … I can help, if you'd like."

Sara flushed slightly. With her mother in the house, he had never dared to even suggest that he could help her bathe or dress. "I'd like," she said softly.

"Come on," he said, standing up and holding his hand out to her. "There's a bathtub with your name on it."

Giggling a bit nervously, Sara stood up. "You know we have to keep my cast dry, right?"

"I know."

"And that some contortions are tough for me?"

"Um … Sara, I wasn't exactly planning to jump in with you. I figured you and that cast would probably take up all the room even in our massive tub."

"Oh," she said, feeling slightly put off.

"But," he said, his voice lowering suggestively, "that doesn't mean I wasn't willing to kneel right next to the tub and … give you a hand."

Sara's eyes lit up. "Let's go take a bath."

* * *

"Just so you know," Sara said as Grissom brushed out her hair, "it's a lot more fun when _you_ help me with my bath than when my mom does. Don't tell her, though."

Grissom laughed. "Sara, if your mother gave you the kind of help I just did, I'd be more than a little disturbed."

"She doesn't."

"Well, that's a relief," Grissom said, heaving a sarcastic sigh.

Sara made a face at him in the mirror. "But, she doesn't need to know that you're giving me that kind of help."

Grissom leaned around her to kiss her lips. "I promise. It'll be our little secret."

"Good."

"But … sweetheart, she knows that we live together and share a bedroom. I'm pretty sure she knows we're having sex."

Sara shook her head. "Nope. I've never told her, so she doesn't know."

"Ri-ight."

"She doesn't," Sara insisted. "She must think that we sleep on opposite edges of the bed."

Grissom burst into laughter and pulled her into a hug. "I love you, Sara."

"I love you, too."

* * *

"You're sure you don't want me to go to the airport with you?" Sara asked.

"No, I want you to stay here and rest," Laura said. "You only have one more week off. There's no point in exhausting yourself just so you can say goodbye to me in a different setting."

Sara smiled, but was inwardly relieved. She _was_ tired – her bath had been a serious drain on her energy. "Okay."

Laura opened her arms, folding Sara into a hug. Sara clung to her for a long moment.

"Thank you, Mom," she said. "For everything."

"Thank you, too, for letting me take care of you. It's not every day I get to baby my ultra-independent daughter."

Sara chuckled. "Well, I hope you enjoyed it. It'll be the last time."

Laura kissed her cheek. "I love you, baby. Take care of yourself."

"I will. I love you, too."

Laura pulled away from Sara and turned to follow Grissom to the car.

"Call when you get home," Sara called after her.

"I will."

Waving one last time, Laura climbed into the car. Grissom waved from his position behind the wheel, and pulled away from the house.

Sighing, Sara turned and walked back inside. For the first time in nearly two weeks, she was on her own to amuse herself.

Grinning, she picked up one of the DVDs Catherine had brought her. It was time to watch a movie.

* * *

When Grissom got home, Sara's movie was ending. She sat up on the couch as he walked in.

"Mom made her flight?"

"Of course," he replied. "You doubted my driving ability?"

"No, never."

Grissom yawned. "I'm sorry to do this to you, honey, but I'm exhausted. I need to get some sleep before shift tonight."

"I want to come with you," Sara said, turning off the tv.

"Sara, you don't have to sleep just because I am."

"I'm not," she said. "I'm exhausted. _Someone_ wore me out earlier."

Grissom blushed. "Sorry about that."

She crossed to him and kissed him. "Don't apologize. I'm certainly not upset. Besides, I only have a week to get myself back on the graveyard schedule, right?"

"Right." He smiled. "Come on, then. Let's get some sleep."

* * *

Heavy. She had never felt anything so heavy before. Why couldn't she just put it down if it was so heavy to carry?

Hot. Why was it so hot? She had never been so hot before …

Wet. Water … water surrounded her …

Why was it so hard to walk? Her feet felt like they were made of lead …

Water … getting higher … covering her head … she couldn't breathe … she needed to breathe, but there was no air … only water …

With a gasp, Sara woke up. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she was drenched in a cold sweat.

"Just a nightmare," she whispered. "Just a nightmare."

She glanced over to see if she had woken Grissom. He was still asleep, blissfully unaware of her terror. She considered waking him up to talk about it, but changed her mind.

_I can deal with a nightmare. I'm not a four-year-old. _

Still, she closed the distance between them to snuggle against him. Without waking, Grissom put his arm around her, pulling her tightly to his side.

Sara sighed and pillowed her head on his chest, closing her eyes. She was safe in Grissom's arms. Nothing could hurt her.


	102. Exposed

A/N: I loved writing this chapter. I hope you like it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Exposed_

Grissom's cell phone rang, disturbing the relative quiet of the crime scene. He looked at the screen, scowling to see _Ecklie_ across it. He silenced the phone and put it back in his pocket.

Warrick and Greg exchanged a look.

"Who are you running from, Griss?" Warrick asked.

"Ecklie."

"Well, that figures," Greg said. "Who else would he ignore?"

"And we call ourselves investigators," Warrick said, giving Greg a grin and a wink.

Grissom looked up. "I'd feel more comfortable calling you two investigators if you were actually _investigating_. Or are the prints lifting themselves now?"

Knowing better than to keep teasing their boss, Warrick and Greg got back to work.

Grissom turned back to the blood spatter he was photographing. He exhaled. He knew exactly why Ecklie had already called him five times only three hours into his shift. He just wasn't ready to deal with him.

Not yet.

* * *

Grissom, Greg and Warrick were driving back to the lab at the end of a very long shift in the field when Grissom's cell phone rang. Greg and Warrick, who had watched him ignore four more calls from Ecklie while they had processed their scene, both laughed. Grissom took his hands from the wheel long enough to pick his phone up. He frowned when a number he didn't recognize lit up the screen. He opened the phone, ending its ringing.

"Grissom."

"Hey, Grissom, it's Mary."

"Hello," he said.

"How's Sara?" she asked.

"Much better," Grissom replied.

Mary laughed. "You're at work, aren't you? With colleagues."

"I am," he replied.

"Yeah, Sara says that you get really … short … when you're working. Well, look, I'll talk and you can keep going with these monosyllabic answers. I was just calling to see if you think Sara would be up to some visitors this weekend."

"Yes, I think so," Grissom said.

Mary giggled again. "Well, great. I found a really amazing last-minute flight deal, and I thought Josie and I could come out to see you guys. You're sure Sara will be up to it?"

"Yes."

"And, you're okay with it?"

"Of course."

"Great. Okay, I'm clicking _reserve_ right now. I'll email you and Sara both my flight information, but I'll be in on Friday at 5:30 local time. Does that work?"

"It won't be a problem."

"Great. Okay, I'll see you Friday, then."

"Thanks … for calling, and for doing this."

"Don't mention it," Mary said. "I want to see Sara more than anything. Thank you for helping me with this."

"You're welcome."

"Bye, Grissom."

"Bye." Grissom closed his phone and dropped it in a cup holder.

"Not Ecklie this time?" Greg asked.

"No."

Warrick flipped down his vanity mirror to glance back at Greg. "Secret girlfriend?" he teased.

"Oh, funny," Grissom said sarcastically. "Hilarious, even."

Greg and Warrick both laughed.

"You're not going to tell us who called?"

Grissom sighed. "I'd really like to keep things work-related, gentlemen."

"Um, Griss, that went out the window about … wait, how long have I worked here? Like nine years ago, man. Maybe ten …" Warrick chuckled. "We've never been a strictly _worked-related_ group. Or do the birthday parties we've always thrown for each other – and even Lindsey – count as work now?"

"Fine," Grissom said peevishly. "That was Sara's best friend, calling to see if I thought Sara's well enough for a visit. Happy now?"

Warrick and Greg both looked surprised.

"Sara's allowed to have friends, guys," Grissom said, misinterpreting their silence.

"It's not that," Greg said. "It's just … we didn't …"

"We didn't think it was actually personal," Warrick said.

"Well, I'm glad we could all learn what happens when we assume," Grissom said as he drove into the lab parking lot.

"We're sorry, Griss," Warrick said. "We'll stay out of your personal life."

Grissom smiled slightly. "I'm sorry for snapping at you," he said. "Listen … this whole thing with everyone knowing about Sara and me is still really strange for me. I just … I guess hiding it was safer, in a lot of ways. I feel very exposed right now. I'm not upset with you guys, and I'm not ashamed of talking to Sara's friends. I just …"

"We get it," Greg cut in as Grissom trailed off.

"It's still a little strange for us, too," Warrick acknowledged. "I don't think we know where the boundaries are yet."

"Neither do I," Grissom admitted.

"I think it'll be easier when Sara gets back," Greg said. He frowned. "When does Sara come back?"

"Middle of next week," Grissom said.

"Good," Greg said. "Good. I miss her."

"We all do," Warrick agreed. "I know Nick had talked about going to see her, but …"

"But, what?"

"He wasn't sure if she was up for visitors or not."

Grissom nodded. "I'll talk to him."

* * *

Interestingly, Nick was the first person Grissom, Warrick and Greg encountered as they walked into the lab. He was carrying his jacket and whistling, obviously on his way home for the day. His whistle changed abruptly when he saw the bags and buckets of evidence they were carrying.

"Well, I can see three people who are working a double today," he said with a grin.

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "Hey, can you guys go start logging this? I'll join you in a minute."

"Yeah," Warrick said. "Come on, Greggo."

Nick looked slightly apprehensive at the fact that his boss had clearly wanted to talk to him alone. "Something wrong, Griss?"

"No," Grissom said. "I just wanted to talk to you for a minute."

"Okay," Nick said, still bemused.

"Warrick mentioned that you wanted to visit Sara."

"Oh," Nick said, understanding breaking out across his face. "Yeah, I'd like to see her, but I didn't want to push. She's not back at work yet, so I wasn't sure she'd be up to entertaining visitors."

Grissom pulled a bindle from his pocket and scribbled their address on it. "This is where you'll find her. She'll be awake by now."

Nick smiled, but still looked concerned. "She's up for it?"

Grissom nodded. "I think a visit from a friend will help her more than anything."

Nick's smile widened. "Thanks, Griss."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Sara was just finishing her breakfast dishes when the doorbell rang. Hank sprang into action, bounding up the stairs and barking.

"Okay, chill," Sara said with a laugh as she reached the door, grabbing the dog's collar to hold him back.

She peered through the peephole, and smiled at the sight of Nick on her doorstep. Keeping a firm hold on Hank's collar, she pulled the door open.

"Hey, darlin'. Are you up for some company?"

Sara smiled as she opened the door wide enough for Nick to enter. "Do I have much choice?"

He grinned and gently kissed her cheek as he entered the house. "Look, I know how it is to be stuck at home when you'd rather be at work – or, really, just outside the house. So, I wanted to come over and save you from yourself. There will be no infomercial purchases for you."

Sara grinned. "Thanks, Nicky. I was on the verge of ordering that rotisserie."

"And that would just be a shame," Nick grinned. "I don't think it works _nearly_ as well on veggies as it does on chicken."

Sara giggled. "Come on in."

"Who's this?" Nick asked, grinning at the dog.

"This is Hank," Sara said. "Hank, say a _nice_ hello to Nick."

She released his collar, waiting for the dog to jump on Nick. To her surprise, he followed her command and stepped closer to sniff the hand Nick extended to him. Nick scratched his head, grinning up at Sara.

"You've got a sweet little guy here."

"I don't know if he's really little," Sara said, laughing. "I can't believe how sweet he's being. He must like you."

"Well, you did say to be nice."

"Yeah, but that never works when I say it. Only when –" She stopped abruptly.

"Only when Grissom says it," Nick finished for her.

"Yeah," Sara said, leading him into the living room to sit down. She shook her head. "I'm still getting used to the idea that you all know."

"Yeah, well, I think we are, too," Nick agreed, sitting down next to her on the couch. He shook his head. "I can't believe you guys kept it from us for so long, Sar."

She smiled. "If I say that we didn't want you to know, will you be hurt?"

"Nah," Nick said, smiling. "We all understand why you did what you did."

"Good." Sara looked down, her heart suddenly pounding. She had wanted to talk to Nick alone for over a week, but now that he was here … "Nick …"

"Yeah?"

She drew a deep breath and kept her eyes on the floor. "I haven't really talked to anyone about what happened after … after Natalie …"

"Yeah," Nick said. "I know how that is. You can talk when you're ready to talk."

Sara nodded and began to watch the patterns her fingers were tracing over the leather of the cushions under them. "Yeah, I know that … it's just …" She looked up to meet his eyes. "Nicky, I want to thank you."

Nick frowned slightly. "To thank me?"

"I listened when Catherine said you were the one who found me. And, I know what you meant about it being a group effort, but …" She looked up at him with eyes full of tears. "Nicky, if you hadn't seen me … if you hadn't … God, Nicky, _thank you_. Thank you for saving my life."

Nick reached across to pull her to him, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. Tears blurred his vision as she began to sob against his chest.

"Sara, you told me once that when it's your day to die, that's it. It's your day." He tipped his chin down to kiss the top of her head. "That day … in that desert … Sara, it was _not_ your day. I wasn't going to let it be, and neither was anyone else. We were going to find you, Sar, one way or another. I just happened to be the one to see you, but …" He hugged her even tighter to him. "Sara, it was an _honor_ to do that for you."

Sara sobbed against him, _feeling_ so much for the first time since that first traumatized day in the hospital. "Nicky … it was the scariest thing …"

"I know, darlin'," he said, keeping her locked in his arms. "I know."

"How did you do it?" she asked in a little voice. "How did you keep going? I had a way out, but you … you were _trapped_ … you …"

"I knew you guys were looking for me," he said. "I knew that my team would find me, and I was not going to let you find my body. Not as long as I had air to breathe …" He swallowed hard as his last few moments in the coffin came back to him. "I know what it's like to want so badly to give up that you'd do anything …" He swallowed again. "I am so proud of you, Sara. I am so proud of you for not giving up."

"I couldn't give up," she said. "I have too much to live for."

Nick kissed the top of her head again, and she pulled back from him, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked.

"Yeah," Sara said. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Good," Nick said. "I don't want Grissom to flip out on me for coming over here and upsetting you."

Sara laughed. "No worries. It'll be our little secret."

Nick grinned. "Well, we all know you can keep a secret."

Sara laughed again. "Be nice."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

When Grissom finally made it home, Sara was alone with the dog, watching the second Antonio Banderas movie Catherine had given her. Her eyes lit up when he walked into the room.

"Hey!" she said. "How was work?"

"Long," he replied, leaning down to kiss her. "You were right about the guys only taking it easy on me for the first day or two."

Sara giggled. "Not used to working doubles anymore?"

"I could get used to _not_ working them," he replied, sitting down next to her. "What have you been up to today?"

"Nick came to see me."

"He said he was going to. I gave him our address."

"I didn't even think to ask him how he found me."

"Well, that's how," Grissom said, taking her hand in his. "Sara …"

She frowned at his tone. "I don't think I like where this is going."

"I haven't said anything yet."

"I know. But, the way you said my name … you don't want to tell me what you're about to tell me."

He sighed. "It's Ecklie."

"Well, now I _know_ I don't like where this is going," Sara said, rolling her eyes. "What has he done?"

"Nothing yet."

"_Yet_?"

"Because I haven't let him."

"You haven't _let_ him? Gil, what on earth are you trying to tell me?"

He sighed again. "I've been avoiding Ecklie for the past two days."

Sara giggled. "That's not exactly unusual, dear."

"He called me about fifteen times today."

"Um … I'm going out on a limb here, sweetheart, but it sounds like he might want to talk to you about something important."

"It is," Grissom said quietly. "Sara, he's trying to get in touch with me because he wants to talk about us."

"_Us_ as in you and me, or _us_ as in you and Ecklie?"

Grissom rolled his eyes. "What do you think, Ms. Harvard and Berkley degrees?"

Sara sighed. "Yeah."

"Sara, the rules are very clear," Grissom said, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "We knew that when we started this."

"Yeah," she said again in a very little voice, watching his fingers playing with hers.

"We … we can't …"

"I know."

"We can't work on the same team and have a relationship," he said. "It worked for us when we could keep it quiet, but now … Ecklie's not going to leave this alone or pretend it doesn't exist. Particularly not considering the fact that we've been doing this for so long without telling him. He'll see it as an insult to his intelligence, and, worse, his authority." He paused. "Sara, I think it would be best if one of us switches to swing shift."

"Swing?"

"Yeah. That way at least some of our hours will overlap, and we'll get some time together at home, too."

"That makes sense," Sara said, already feeling the sting of leaving her friends and the shift she had worked for the past seven years behind.

"I'll do it," Grissom said.

Sara's eyes snapped up to his face. "What?"

"I'll move to swing," he said. He gave a slight smile. "Maybe we'll get to work a few cases together, if we're lucky."

"Yeah, but, Gil –"

"Sara, I want you to go back to grave," he said. "I want you to go back to work with Greg, Nick, Warrick and Catherine. Cath can take over as supervisor. She'll do a great job. And, the rest of you can keep doing your jobs." He paused. "Well, one of you will probably take her job as assistant supervisor …"

"Nick," Sara suggested. "You were right before, Griss. He doesn't care about getting promoted, so he's the best choice to promote." She squeezed his hand. "He's a lot like you in that way."

Grissom smiled slightly. "You're okay with this?"

"No," Sara said. "Not at all. I don't want us to work on different shifts. I don't want to only see you for a few hours a day. But … I guess it makes us like every other couple out there, huh?"

"Yeah," Grissom agreed.

"Griss … will you still be a supervisor if you switch to swing? Don't they have a supervisor?"

"I can go back to being a CSI," Grissom said with a shrug. "I've never liked the paperwork, anyway. It'll be nice to go back to the science. And, if Ecklie wants to cut my pay, that's fine. We have a double income; we'll be fine to keep the house."

"But, Gil –"

Grissom put his fingers over her lips to stop her words. "Sara. This is the best way. It's what we should do."

"But, I could –"

"_No_, Sara. It's the best way."

Sara looked at him, realizing how serious he was. She didn't think for a minute that his plan was the _best way_, but she knew better than to fight with him when his mind was so made up. She'd have to come up with a solid, logical counter argument before she started trying to battle his decision.

"Okay," she conceded.

"Good," he sighed, looking relieved that she had agreed. "I have some happier news for you."

"I could deal with some good news," she said with a hint of a smile.

"We're going to have company this weekend."

"Are we? Who's coming to visit?"

"Mary and Josie."

"What?" Sara shrieked. "Griss, are you messing with me?"

He laughed. "I think I know better than to do something like that."

"When are they coming?"

"Friday evening."

"How long are they staying?"

"You know, Mary didn't say. I think she said it was a weekend deal, but I'm not sure."

Sara frowned. "Why, exactly, do _you_ know when _my_ best friend is coming to visit us before me?"

Grissom laughed. "Mary didn't trust you to be honest about your health. She was afraid you'd tell her you were fine to entertain visitors when you were really on your deathbed."

Sara rolled her eyes. "First my mom, then you and now Mary. You're all impossible."

"You know, Sara, when you're the only one who feels a certain way, you might be wrong."

"Right … like Columbus, Galileo –"

"Point made," Grissom said, holding up his hands in surrender. "However, in this case … you might be a little bit … optimistic in your self-diagnosis."

"And, you might be evil."

Grissom laughed and leaned in to kiss her. "I love you, Sara. There's nothing evil about that."

She sighed against his lips and kissed him again. "I love you, too."


	103. The Good Fight

A/N: I'm so sorry about the delay! I was on a family vacation, which generally means a lack of time to do anything alone, which delayed writing. I truly thought I'd have this ready to post before I left, which is why I didn't mention it when I posted the last chapter. Sorry about that.

I also feel compelled to tell you that this is the penultimate chapter in this story. I do want to continue Grissom and Sara's story, and I will be posting another story that will take them through the next phase of their lives. But, for this particular story, there's one more chapter to go after this one.

I hope you like this. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_The Good Fight_

The blanket pulled over her head did little to block out the sounds of her parents' shouting. It barely muffled the sound of her father's fist or open palm as it connected with her mother's body.

The multiplication tables were all she had to distract herself from the fight raging downstairs. She clutched the blanket and recited them in a calm whisper.

It was working; her parents' voices seemed farther away. They grew quieter. But, another noise was getting louder, drowning out her own voice as she repeated the familiar number patters.

Water. Water pounded down against her and rushed all around her. She gasped, clinging to the blanket as though it would save her from the flood. The blanket got wetter in her hands until it turned into water, preventing her from drawing breath, suffocating her as it covered her head–

With a gasp, Sara woke up. She was in her own bed, clutching her blankets with white-knuckled fists.

_A dream. It was just a dream._

She drew several deep breaths, as much to convince herself that she _could_ draw a deep breath as to calm her racing heart.

She looked beside her, hoping that she hadn't woken Grissom with her nightmare. He was still sleeping, lying on his back with a look of peaceful contentment on his face.

Without thinking about it, Sara slid closer to him, snuggling against him. He stirred slightly.

"You okay?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Yeah," Sara said. "I just wanted to snuggle."

Grissom smiled and drew her closer, wrapping his arms around her, holding her to his chest. Sara pillowed her cheek against him, sighing. _Safe. I'm safe with him._

"Love you," Grissom murmured before drifting back into sleep.

"I love you, too," Sara replied.

Wrapped up in Grissom's arms, her breathing gradually returned to normal. After nearly an hour, she was able to fall into a light, restless sleep.

* * *

Sara was cold when she woke up the next morning. She shivered, trying to snuggle closer to Grissom before even opening her eyes. She couldn't find him.

Panic filled her as she opened her eyes to find herself alone in her bed. All the dread and fear that had been a part of her nightmare, banished by burying her face in Grissom's chest and feeling his arms around her, returned in full force.

_Stop acting like an idiot._

She had no idea where the thought came from, but it helped her refocus. She took a deep breath and blinked the sleep out of her eyes, trying to remember where Grissom was supposed to be. _He was off last night, so we were sleeping at a normal time. He should be up at a normal time, too. Where …?_

She had her answer a moment later; Grissom's voice drifted to her as he spoke to the dog. Smiling with relief that she was ashamed to feel, Sara climbed out of bed.

"Stop acting like a clingy woman," she muttered to herself as she attempted to make the bed with only one useable arm. "You've never had any respect for anyone like that."

Finally feeling more composed, Sara left her bedroom. It was time to begin a very exciting day.

"Good morning, boys," she said as she walked into the kitchen.

Although Hank didn't look up from his breakfast kibble, Grissom turned to her with a smile from his place at the stove.

"Good morning."

Sara stepped up next to him and kissed his cheek. "What are you making?"

"Omelets," he replied.

Sara looked down into the pan that held nothing more than olive oil, then up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't want to start them before you were up," he replied. "What's the point in eating it cold?"

"You could have woken me," Sara replied, moving away from Grissom and the stove to set the table.

"I would have, in about twenty minutes," he assured her. "We still have plenty of time."

Sara smiled. "I still can't believe they'll be here in a few hours. You and Mary are the best."

"Hey, this one was all Mary," Grissom said. "All I did was to tell her that you were healthy enough for visitors."

"Still … thank you."

Grissom returned her smile. "You're welcome."

Sara took the orange juice from the refrigerator and returned to the table to pour them each a glass. "Griss …"

"Yeah?" he asked, barely glancing up from the omelet he had in the skillet.

"I love you," Sara said, putting the juice down. "You know that, right?"

Grissom looked up at her with the tenderest expression she could imagine. "Yeah, Sara, I know. I love you, too."

Warmth spread through her, banishing the lingering chill of her nightmare. Her smile lit her face. "I know, too."

* * *

Sara watched impatiently as a steady stream of passengers walked past her toward the baggage carousels. Grissom smiled and took her hand.

"She'll be here."

"In case you didn't know, I'm not all that great at waiting," Sara said.

Grissom chuckled. "Well, in this case, you'll have to learn a little patience. Remember, she's traveling by herself with a toddler. I doubt she was going to be the first person off the plane."

"Fair enough," Sara sighed, craning her neck to search through the next wave of passengers.

Grissom laced his fingers through hers, letting his thumb rub against hers. "Patience," he said softly.

"I'm working on it."

"Not very hard."

"Don't be mean."

"I'd never –"

"Hi!"

"Mary!" Sara dropped Grissom's hand to hug her friend. "Where did you come from? I've been looking and –"

Sara stopped talking as Mary pulled her into the tightest hug she could manage without injuring Sara's broken arm. Mary clung to her friend as tears rolled down her cheeks. When she finally pulled back, she wiped them away with shaky hands.

"Mary!" Sara exclaimed. "What –"

"Oh, God, Sara, I've been so scared," Mary said. "So scared. Do you have any idea how terrifying it was to see your name on my phone and then hear Grissom's voice? I've been a wreck ever since I got that phone call. To be here now, to see you … Sara, I'm so glad you're okay."

She hugged her again.

"I'm so sorry, Mary," Sara said, hugging her back. "I didn't want to scare you like that."

Mary gave a shaky laugh. "It's certainly not your fault. I don't blame you at all. I'm just so happy that I'm here and you're here and … well, I'm just happy."

"Me, too," Sara said, releasing her.

Mary smiled at Sara again, then turned to greet Grissom. Both women were surprised to see him kneeling in front of Josie's stroller, talking to her. She was giggling at something he said, and reached her small hands out to him. Mary and Sara both laughed.

"Saying hi to your girlfriend?" Sara asked.

Grissom looked up with a grin. "You two left us alone. We had to entertain each other." He stood up. "Hi, Mary."

She surprised him with a hug. "Hi."

Smiling at the look on Grissom's face at this unexpected display of affection, Sara turned her attention to the baby.

"Hey, sweet pea," she said, kneeling down as Grissom had in front of the stroller. "Are you excited to be in Vegas?"

Mary laughed. "She was excited enough to be on the plane. You liked flying, didn't you, Miss Josie?"

"Yesssss," Josie said, drawing the s out far longer than should be necessary.

Sara giggled. "Well, let's see if you like the car as much. Do you need to pick up luggage?"

"Nope. We managed with just a carry-on this time."

"Impressive."

"Every once in awhile," Mary said.

"Come on," Grissom said, already picking up her bag. "We're this way."

Mary resumed her place pushing the stroller, while Sara walked beside her.

"You're sure you can only stay for the weekend?"

"Oh, don't even try," Mary sighed. "Can you imagine poor Tom on his own for more than a weekend?"

Sara giggled. "He lived on his own before you got married."

"Yes … and he's forgotten all his survival skills since we got married."

Grissom shook his head. "Sara, I certainly hope you don't talk about me like this when I'm not around."

"Never, dear."

Chuckling, he unlocked the car and lifted Mary's bag into the trunk. "All right, ladies. How does this stroller work?"

Mary took the baby out of the stroller and gave her to Sara. "Hold her for a second."

"Hi," Sara said as she shifted the nearly-two-year-old in her arms.

Josie grinned and patted Sara's cheeks.

"You have a very pretty dress on," Sara said. "I love blue on you. It makes your eyes so bright."

Josie picked up the edges of her skirt. "Pretty," she said.

"Yes," Sara agreed. "It's very pretty. And, you're a very pretty girl."

"Okay," Mary said. "Car seat is strapped in and stroller is collapsed. Let's get this party on the road."

Sara grinned and handed Josie over so Mary could strap her into her car seat. After watching for a moment, she opened the passenger door.

"I miss driving," Sara sighed as she climbed into the car.

Mary giggled. "It would be tough to drive with only one arm."

"That's why I'm not shoving my way into the driver's seat," Sara replied with a grin.

Grissom rolled his eyes as he buckled his seatbelt. "I brace myself every time we get into the car, just in case."

"Oh, Sara, let Grissom take care of you," Mary said. "He's being chivalrous."

Sara grinned and reached over to run her fingers through her hair. "My knight in shining armor."

"Hey!" Grissom exclaimed. "Ladies did not fondle their knights in front of an audience. _Particularly_ not when the knights were driving."

"Don't do anything that might cause an accident," Mary said with a chuckle.

"Fine, fine, I'll keep my hands to myself," Sara said, heaving a mock sigh. "You guys are a tough crowd. All we need now is for my mom to show up again."

"How did she take being here?"

"By 'she,' do you mean Laura or Sara?" Grissom asked.

Mary laughed. "That doesn't sound good."

"Mom had a great time," Sara said. "She loved taking care of me."

"Which you hated," Mary said, nodding in understanding.

"Sara held up very well," Grissom said. "She was very patient."

"Of course, the fact that it took me almost the entire week to learn to do everything with one hand helped," Sara admitted. "It's tough to fight someone who wants to help you when there's no way you can complete the task on your own."

"Well, I won't try to help you," Mary promised. "My purpose for visiting is purely social."

Sara twisted awkwardly in her seat to give her friend a smile. "I'm glad you're here."

Mary grinned back. "Me, too."

* * *

"Honestly, Sara, you are the luckiest woman I know," Mary said as she watched Grissom stack up their dishes after dinner.

"Why?" Sara asked.

"Your boyfriend is like a live-in chef who does dishes."

Sara laughed. "That's only because I'm incapacitated. If I had full use of both arms, I'd be washing those dishes right now."

"I still would have made dinner, though," Grissom said from his place by the sink. "Sara has made great strides since I started teaching her to cook, but she's not ready for the general public yet."

Mary shook her head sadly. "I did try, you know."

"He knows. He's had my tortilla."

Mary laughed. "It took me _ages_ to master the flipping thing, and Sara got it the first time I showed her. The girl can barely boil water, but tortilla is no problem for her."

"Oh, the small tragedies of life," Grissom said with a grin.

"Injustices, I'd say," Mary said.

"You know, if all this wasn't true, I'd probably be terribly offended," Sara said with a grin.

Grissom laughed as his phone started ringing. He picked it up and looked at the screen. "Nick," he informed them as he flipped it open. "Grissom."

"The chances of that being a good thing are slim," Sara said with a sigh.

"You think he'll have to go to work?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Okay," Grissom said into the phone. "I'll be right there. … You're welcome. I'll see you in a few minutes, Nicky."

"You have to go to work?" Sara asked as he closed his phone.

"Yeah," Grissom said. "Nick and Catherine have a double with serious insect activity. Nick said it was freaking him out, so …"

"They definitely need you," Sara said. "Tell them hi for me."

"I'm sorry, honey. I know you wanted –"

"It's okay," Sara said. "Mary, Josie and I will entertain ourselves. Go catch a murderer."

Grissom smiled and dropped a kiss onto her up-turned lips. "You girls be good."

"We will."

Grissom went to collect his things, and Sara turned to the dishes that were still stacked on the counter.

"Want to watch me clean with one hand?"

Mary laughed and stood up with her. "How 'bout I give you a little help?"

* * *

"So, how are you?" Mary asked, sitting down with Sara on the couch after putting the baby to bed.

"I'm fine," Sara said automatically.

"Sara," Mary said, taking her hand, "how about some honesty?"

Sara bit her lip. "I'm … scared to death."

"What's scaring you?" Mary asked quietly.

"Everything and nothing," Sara replied. "It's … hard to explain. I guess … I just want my life to be normal again, and I'm terrified that it won't be. I want … Mary, I want to go back a month, and let everything be the way it always was. I want to live here with Gil and Hank, and go to work with Gil and the team, and … I just want to live my life."

"But, things have changed," Mary said. "Everyone knows about you now."

"Exactly," Sara sighed. "Ecklie's been chasing Grissom for days, trying to get him to talk to him about our relationship. He's going to split us up, Mar."

Mary looked stricken.

"I mean professionally," Sara explained. "There's a lab policy against members of the same team being romantically involved."

"Which you didn't care about," Mary said slowly.

"Well, that's a bit harsh," Sara said with a smile. "We cared, we just … ignored it. We figured that if we kept things quiet and kept our personal life out of the lab, it would be fine. And, it was. We work great together, and …"

"You _are_ great together," Mary acknowledged.

"Yeah," Sara agreed. "But now …"

"What are you going to do?"

"One of us has to switch shifts," Sara said. "Grissom said he'd do it."

"That's kind," Mary said.

"Yeah, I guess …"

"What are you thinking, Sara?"

"I don't want him to do that," Sara said. "He's doing it for me – he said he wants me to go back to the team. But, Mary, I just … I can't do that to the team. I can't take Grissom away from them. He's the one who provides leadership, support, guidance … Grissom is the cornerstone. He's the rock they've leaned on and the glue that's held them together for years. I can't take that away from them because I'm too selfish to want to give up working with my friends."

"Tell him that," Mary urged. "Tell him you'll do it instead."

"I wanted to at the time, but he was so determined. I just … You saw how it was tonight. Nick called him in on his night off, and he went to help, and neither of them even thought about it. I want them to have that for as long as possible."

"Sara. You know what you have to do."

"Yeah," Sara said. "I just hope that Grissom will let me do it."

"He will," Mary said. "That man will do anything to make you happy, Sara. He loves you."

"I know," Sara said. "I'd do anything for him, too."

Mary smiled and squeezed her hand. "Other than this work thing … everything's good?"

Sara was silent for a moment, thinking of her nightmares that were far too real, of her almost-unacknowledged nervousness about going back to work at all, of her reluctance to admit she needed help –

"Yeah," she said at last. "Everything's great."

Mary looked at her sharply, but didn't continue probing. She knew when she had hit her limit with Sara.

"Good," she said, patting her hand before releasing it. "And, if it's not …"

"You'll be at the top of the list of people I whine to."

"Don't –"

"End a sentence with a preposition," Sara said with a grin. "Yeah. I know."

Mary giggled and leaned across to kiss her cheek. "Thank God you're okay, Sara. I don't know what I'd do without you."

* * *

Grissom found himself working far longer than he had anticipated. Cataloguing the insects that had turned Nick's stomach was a time-consuming process. Once he was done with that, Grissom was fully immersed in the case. He spent his night off working past his normal shift.

He tried very hard to be quiet as he walked into the house, thinking that Sara, Mary and Josie would still be asleep. He was surprised to discover that _sleep_ was certainly not happening in his house.

He walked into the living room to see Sara sitting on the floor with Josie. They were playing with her farm animals and both giggling as they walked them across the floor, making animal noises.

Grissom stood silently, watching as though transfixed. He realized with astounding clarity that _this_ was what he wanted. He wanted to come home from work to see Sara playing with _their_ baby. He wanted to marry her, to have a family with her. He wanted …

Sara looked up and saw him staring at her. She grinned.

"How are you with farm animal sounds?" she asked.

Grissom shook his head as if to clear it and joined Sara and Josie on the floor. "Not as good as you," he said.

Sara laughed. "Flattery will get you nowhere … in this case."

Grissom leaned in and kissed her. Sara's eyebrows shot up at the tenderness and passion he put into the kiss.

"Miss me?" she teased as he pulled back.

"A little," he replied with a smile. "Where's Mary?"

"Taking a shower."

"So, we're entertaining the baby for now?"

"Yup," Sara said, handing Grissom a sheep. "Go to it, Griss. Let me hear your sheep sounds."

Grissom grinned and used the sheep to tickle Josie. "Baaaaa," he said.

Josie giggled and Sara laughed.

"You're very good at that."

"No, I'm not," he said. "But, for you, I'll try to be." He looked down at the sheep in his hands, then up at her. "You're going to be a great mother, Sara."

Sara looked at him with surprised eyes.

"I mean it," he said. "You will be."

Realizing what he was saying, Sara nodded. "You'll be a great father, too."

"I'll do my best."

"That's all I'll ever ask."


	104. Rising Sun

A/N: And so ends this chapter of Grissom and Sara's lives. I hope you've enjoyed my take on their story, and I hope you'll be willing to continue with me into the next part of their journey. I hope to have the beginning of that story posted by the end of August.

Thank you so much for reading my story, and for your kind reviews, words of wisdom and suggestions. You have shaped my writing more than you'll ever know, and I truly am grateful. A particularly huge THANK YOU goes to aussieforgood, who has kept me in check and on the right track with this story so many times.

And, now, I hope you enjoy this last chapter of "And They Lived Happily."

I don't own CSI. Some inspiration and dialogue are borrowed from episode 802, "A la Cart."

* * *

_Rising Sun_

"Okay," Sara said, putting her phone on the coffee table. "That was Greg. He said that Grissom spent the last couple hours with a nasty decomp. He's showering now, and then he'll be home to take us to the airport."

Mary made a face. "Do I even want to know?"

"No," Sara said. "But, if he's showering at the lab, that means he had lemons in his locker, and that means … we can pretend we didn't hear anything about a decomp."

Mary shook her head. "I've said it before, but it bears repeating: I don't know how you can do your job."

"Someone has to speak for the victims," Sara said quietly.

"Yeah," Mary agreed, her own voice quiet. "They're lucky they have you."

Sara smiled as her cell phone rang again. "I hope that's not …" Her voice died away as she read the name on the screen. Her smile was replaced by a frown.

"Now what?" Mary asked, a bit surprised by the peeved look on Sara's face.

She scowled and answered her phone. "This is Sara," she said.

"Sara," Ecklie said in the jovial voice that he tended to use with her when he wanted something. "It's Conrad. How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks," she said.

"Great," he said, still using his upbeat tone. "I'm looking over your paperwork, and it says you're scheduled to come back next week."

"On Tuesday," she confirmed.

"Great," he said again. "Listen, I need to talk to you before you jump back in – a formality, you know."

"Right," Sara agreed. "Do you need me to make an appointment, or –"

"No, no, it's not that formal," Ecklie interrupted. "Just stop by my office between now and Tuesday."

"I'll do that," Sara said.

"Great," he said yet again. "I'll look forward to seeing you."

"Thanks," Sara said.

"Bye."

"Bye."

Mary watched as Sara closed her phone. "Who was that? I haven't seen you scowl that much since … I can't even remember when."

"Ecklie," Sara replied. "God, that man is such a tool!"

"Toooooolllll," Josie parroted from her spot on the floor playing with her doll.

"Thanks, Sara," Mary said dryly. "Josie, don't use that word. It's not nice."

"Tool," Josie said again, giggling this time.

Sara laughed. "Good job, Mar. You've made it fun."

"I blame you for this," Mary said. She sighed. "So, what did he want?"

"He said we need to have a meeting before I'm allowed back to work."

"Seems reasonable," Mary said. "You'll have to give him your medical information and doctor's release and all that, right?"

"I don't think so," Sara said slowly. "From what I remember, Nick and Greg just gave all that stuff to Grissom when they came back from medical leave." She sighed. "He wants to talk about me and Grissom. Gil's been avoiding him, which he can get away with, because he doesn't need his permission to do anything." She shook her head. "At best, he's going to make one of us switch shifts. At worst, he's going to fire me."

"He can't fire you for this!"

"I think he can," Sara said. "We're violating lab policy, and we've known it from the beginning. It all depends on how evil he's feeling."

"Hope for the best, right?"

"Yeah," Sara said. She bit her lip. "I'm going to do it, Mary."

"Do what?"

"Assuming Ecklie doesn't fire me, I'm going to switch shifts."

Mary nodded. She had expected that Sara would make that decision. "Have you decided how you're going to convince Grissom that's the best idea?"

"I'm just going to tell him," she said. "I thought about just telling Ecklie and then telling Grissom after it's a done deal, but that doesn't seem fair." She sighed. "He doesn't want to leave the guys, Mary. I know that. I think that if I just tell him with conviction and don't let him argue about it, he'll let me. He'll probably be relieved that he gets to keep his job, to be honest."

"And, you don't mind switching shifts?" Mary asked slowly.

Sara smiled slightly. "Of course I mind. It's not what I want. It's not what any of us wants. But, a couple years ago, Catherine, Nick and Warrick were all sent to swing. As much as we all hated that our team was split, we still saw each other. We still worked cases together. We still went out after work. The shifts overlap, you know. I'll still get to see everyone. I'll still get time at home with Grissom."

"You're sure about this?"

"I'm sure it's the best way."

Mary nodded. "Then, it's the right thing to do."

* * *

"Hi, ladies," Grissom said as he walked into the house.

Mary and Sara were sitting on the living room floor with Josie, rolling a ball between the three of them. They all looked up with smiles when he came in. Josie stood up and toddled to him with the ball in her hands.

"Hey, sweetie," Grissom said as she held out her ball. He took it with a smile. "Thank you. Were you playing with Mommy and Auntie Sara?"

Josie giggled and threw her arms around his legs. Grissom's smile widened; he put the ball down to lift her into his arms.

Mary turned to Sara with a knowing smile as Grissom tossed Josie into the air and caught her again. Sara smiled back.

"It's only a matter of time before he wants his own," Mary said quietly.

"Yeah," Sara said. "I think you might be right on that."

Mary's eyebrows shot up. She had expected a denial. "And, how would you feel about that?"

Sara flushed slightly. "He'll be a wonderful father," she nearly whispered.

"Sara …?"

"No," she said, understanding her friend's unasked question. "Thank goodness. After everything I've been through recently …"

"Yeah," Mary agreed. "You're right. But … soon?"

Sara smiled helplessly and shrugged. "Can I get back to you on that one?"

"You'd better," Mary said, her eyes shining.

"Okay," Grissom said, settling the giggling Josie in his arms. "Are you set to go? I don't want you to miss your flight."

"Yeah, we're ready when you are," Mary replied.

"Where's your luggage?"

"Still in the guest room," Sara said. She grinned. "We thought we'd have you get it, since you're my big, burly man."

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Flattery to cover for laziness, Sara?"

"Oh, be nice," Mary said with a grin. "She has a broken arm."

"Oh, yes, the old 'broken arm' excuse," Grissom said as he went to the guest room to get Mary's suitcase.

"Hey!" Sara laughed. "I'm not going to let a broken arm stop me! Mary was just afraid I'd hurt myself."

"Knowing you, you would," Grissom replied as he returned carrying her suitcase. "I've never seen someone who is so graceful without even trying to be hurt herself so many ways when she's making an effort to be careful."

"Okay, honestly, I'm not sure if I'm insulted by that or not."

Grissom grinned and kissed her cheek. "I love you," he whispered.

Sara rolled her eyes. "I think that means it was an insult."

Grissom laughed. "Come on, ladies. Let's go to the airport."

* * *

"Thank you so much for coming," Sara said, hugging Mary with one arm.

"I'm so glad we could," Mary replied, hugging her tightly. "I needed to see that you're okay."

"I am," Sara said, pulling back.

"I know that now," Mary agreed. She leaned in to kiss Sara's cheek. "I'll call you when we get home."

"Good. Tell Tom hello."

"I will."

Mary abandoned Sara to hug Grissom, and Sara knelt down to kiss Josie goodbye. After Grissom had said goodbye to the baby, Mary hugged Sara one last time, then disappeared through the security gates. Sara sighed.

"I'm going to miss her."

"You won't have much time to do that," Grissom said. "You'll be back at work in a couple days."

"Oh, yeah," Sara said. "I forgot to tell you –"

Her statement ended as Grissom's phone rang.

"Sorry," he said, picking it up.

"It's fine," Sara said.

Smiling apologetically, Grissom opened his phone. "Grissom. … Okay. … Yeah, I'll be there. … No, it's fine. … I'll call them. … Thanks. … Bye."

"Who was it?" Sara asked as he closed his phone.

"Brass," Grissom replied. "He needs me for a case. I'm going to call Nick and Greg on my way to the lab."

Sara bit her lip. "Can I ride to the lab with you?"

Grissom frowned. "Why?"

"That's what I was just about to tell you. Ecklie called before you got home. He said he needs to meet with me before I come back to work."

"Sara …"

"I know what it's about," Sara said. "I just … I want to get it over with."

"Probably not a bad plan," Grissom admitted.

"Not that you're about to do the same," Sara teased.

Grissom smiled. "It would confuse him too much if I was willing to meet with him."

Sara laughed. "Well, I'm not you, dear."

"That's a good thing," Grissom said as they turned to walk back to the parking lot. "We only need one of me."

"Agreed."

He tried to frown at her, but smiled instead. "So, if I take you to the lab, how will you get home?"

"I'll either catch a ride with someone or call a cab. I'll be fine."

"You're sure about this?"

"I want to do this now and be done with it."

"Okay, then," Grissom said, opening the passenger door for her. "To the lab."

* * *

"Oh, my God!"

Sara grinned and braced herself for the hug from Catherine. "Hi, Cath."

"What are you doing here?" Greg asked as he took his turn to hug her.

"I have a meeting with Ecklie," she said.

"But, you're not coming back until later, right?" Nick asked, his eyes shining with concern as he folded her into his arms.

"Tuesday," Sara confirmed.

"We'll have a cake for you," Warrick said, hugging her. "We've missed you around here, little girl."

"I've missed you guys, too," Sara said. She blinked quickly, suddenly overcome by a wave of sadness. She wanted to come back to their shift, to work with them again. Grissom had already offered … it would be so easy …

"Nick, Greg, I need you to come with me," Grissom said, trying to bring everyone back into a "work" mindset. "Brass has a head rolling around somewhere in the desert."

"It's always something around here," Nick said with a grin. "If we're off by lunchtime, Sara …"

"Definitely," she agreed.

Catherine's phone beeped; she lifted it to look at the text message. "Warrick, want to come to a restaurant with me right now?" she asked. "We've got a dead guy."

"Well, when you ask like that …" he teased.

Sara grinned. "Get to work, guys. I'll see you all later."

After another round of hugs, the team split into two groups and left Sara alone outside the lab. Smiling at the enthusiastic greeting she had received, she opened the doors. It was time to face the music.

The lab seemed quiet without the sounds of Greg, Nick and Warrick teasing each other as they nearly ran down the halls to conduct an experiment or pick up lab results. The layout room was empty; it looked strange without Grissom and Catherine bending over a piece of evidence that could break a case.

The lab wasn't empty, though. The techs all looked up in surprise as Sara walked down the halls to Ecklie's office. Part of her wanted to stop at say hello, but she knew that she couldn't. If she started talking to them, she'd never get to Ecklie's office. She had to meet with him before she lost her nerve.

He was holding his phone to his ear and drumming his fingers against his desk when Sara arrived. She knocked lightly on the door frame to alert him to her presence. He looked up and waved her in, standing with a slight smile.

"Have a seat," he said, motioning to the couch across from his desk.

Sara sat down silently, not wanting to interrupt him.

"How's the arm?" he asked as his call was sent to voicemail.

"Fractured in two places," Sara said with a smile.

"Gil, Conrad again," he said into the phone. "Um … message number three. Call me back please." He hung up the phone and looked at Sara. "It's feeling better?" he asked, continuing their previous conversation.

"Yeah," she said, still maintaining her smile.

"Good." He paused, then gestured toward the phone. "So, you must know where he is."

"Actually, I don't," Sara said, shaking her head. It was a question of semantics, really. She knew that he was at a scene in the desert, but that didn't _exactly_ answer Ecklie's question.

"Really?" He smiled nervously. "Okay. Um … Look, I don't want to play any games here." He picked up a folder and carried it around to the other side of his desk. "This is as difficult for me as it is for you." He sat down across from her. "So, let's just, uh, get this over with, shall we?"

Sara nodded, pleased to see that he viewed the entire experience the same way she did.

Ecklie crossed his legs and balanced the open folder on them. "Okay, then, uh, this is an administrative inquiry. You and your supervisor were in direct violation of lab policy."

"Are," Sara corrected.

Ecklie looked up, holding her eyes for a heartbeat. "_Are_ in direct violation of lab policy," he amended, "which states that members of the same forensic team may not engage in a romantic relationship." He clicked his pen to life. "So, when did you and Supervisor Grissom begin your relationship?"

Sara drew a breath and considered his question. "We've always had a relationship," she said, thinking of the friendship that had brought her to Las Vegas eight years before.

Ecklie looked slightly irritated, unsure if she was playing games with him or merely trying to put all her cards on the table. "I mean, when did you become intimate?" he clarified.

Sara thought for a moment, then decided that, since she was talking to Ecklie, she should probably interpret _intimate_ in the basest, crudest way possible. Her mind flew back to the first time she and Grissom had made love. She remembered the hotel room in Boston the night before Josie's baptism … "Two years ago. I think it was a Sunday."

Ecklie looked up and held up a hand. "Details won't be necessary, Sara."

She gave him a half-smile. "Good. I don't like to kiss and tell."

"Clearly." He cleared his throat. "And, at that time, two years ago, were you aware of the lab policy against romantic involvement among team members?"

"Yes."

He closed his eyes briefly. "Was it your intention to defy that policy?"

"Intention?" Sara repeated. "No. My intention was to enter into a relationship with a man with whom I was – _am_ – in love."

"So, what you're telling me is that love is blind to the policies of the workplace?"

"I suppose so." She paused. "Would it help if I said that it wasn't truly _active_ defiance? Passive, certainly, but we didn't set out to defy you or lab policy. We just … fell in love. It just happened."

Ecklie smiled slightly. "I suppose that counts for something."

"Good."

"Sara, I can't allow you to continue to violate our policy," he said. "I wish things could be different, but …"

She held his gaze unflinchingly.

"I'm assuming you intend to continue with the relationship?"

"Yes," Sara replied without hesitation.

Ecklie nodded. "In that case, one of you will have to switch teams," he said. "Under normal circumstances, you'd both face disciplinary action, but, considering …" He gestured toward her broken arm. "In this case, I think you've been punished enough."

Sara let out the breath she had been holding. "Will you decide which of us will switch?"

"I'll leave it up to you," he said. "Can you let me know by tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Sara agreed.

"Good. Call or email me."

"I'll do that."

Ecklie closed his folder, clearly eager to end the interview. "I hope you feel better, Sara."

She nodded. "I already do."

* * *

"Sara?"

Sara paused in her trek from Ecklie's office to the reception area and gave Wendy a smile. "Hi," she said.

"It's so good to see you," Wendy said in a rush. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Sara said. She smiled and looked around. "It's good to be here again." _It feels so _normal_ to be here again._

"We've missed you," Wendy said. "Even Hodges, although he'll never admit it."

Sara grinned. "I've missed you guys, too."

"Hey, listen, our shift is ending right now. Do you want to go out for breakfast? I'm sure that Mandy will come with us."

"You know, that sounds like fun," Sara agreed. "On one condition."

"Name it."

Sara grinned. "Can you take me home afterwards? I can't drive yet and I don't have a ride."

Wendy laughed. "You've got it."

* * *

There was something to be said for following a blood trail from a head to find its body. Grissom certainly had had an interesting shift. Nick and Greg's had been even more interesting; they had chased their lead suspect when he ran from the police. Truly, the only thing Grissom felt was missing from his shift was a phone call from Sara. He wanted to know how her meeting with Ecklie had gone, but she had not yet called. He could have called her, of course, but he was still a bit hesitant to call her during work for non-work reasons.

"You've been dodging me. It's time to talk."

Grissom looked up from the interrogation notes Nick had given him to see a very angry Ecklie standing in front of his desk. He stared at his colleague.

"Gil, _nobody_ wants to hear about your love life less than I do, but since you didn't handle this right, I have to take a formal statement." Ecklie sat down across from Grissom.

Grissom frowned, wondering if there was any possible way to avoid this conversation. Maybe someone would call … Greg or Nick would come in with the news their suspect had confessed … Catherine would need help on her case … the lab would blow up … _anything_ …

"This should have been a conversation between friends," Ecklie said as he opened his folder and took out his pen. "I mean, we could have found some way around this. Catherine could have done Sara's evaluations. Why didn't you just tell me?"

Grissom, wondering if Ecklie was being at all honest about letting them stay on the same team if Catherine would agree to do Sara's evaluations, finally recovered his powers of speech.

"We didn't want you to know," he answered honestly.

"Don't most women like the world to know they're dating someone?"

Grissom gave him a look somewhere between a smile and a frown. "Where do you get your information about women, Conrad?"

Ecklie shook his head in disbelief. "Okay, so, when did you two … you know …?"

Grissom thought back to the first time he had seen Sara, a tall, gorgeous, impossibly young woman searching for a seat in his lecture, flashing him a brilliant smile as she asked question after question. He had been in love with her since that first day. "Nine years ago," he said.

Ecklie looked up from his papers with pure annoyance written all over his face. "You know what? You two need to get your story straight."

Grissom frowned. "What –?"

"Were you aware of departmental policy against romantic involvement among members of the same forensic team?" Ecklie asked without letting Grissom finish his question.

"Yes."

"Did you set out to defy that policy?"

"No," Grissom said.

"Then, why?"

"Why?" Grissom repeated. "Do you really need to ask that?"

Ecklie shook his head. "I suppose I could take a guess. But, I do need an answer."

Grissom sighed. "Because I love her, Conrad. Is that what you need to hear?"

"Did your romantic relationship in any way influence your evaluation of CSI Sidle's work?" he asked, ignoring Grissom's answer and finding his way back to the comfort of the administrative inquiry.

"No," Grissom said. "Her record speaks for itself. You would have given her the same evaluations I did."

"Was she given preferential treatment?"

"No," Grissom replied. "As far as I'm concerned, she was treated like any other CSI. Though, I suppose you'd get a more honest answer to that question if you put it to my team."

"I may do that."

Grissom just stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told Sara," Ecklie said. "Assuming you don't want to end your relationship, one of you has to switch shifts. Because of everything you've both been through recently, I'll refrain from any sort of disciplinary action beyond that. Talk to Sara, and call or email me tomorrow with your final decision about who will move."

With that, he got up and left Grissom's office. Grissom exhaled slowly, thinking that they had gotten off very easy, indeed.

* * *

"Sara?"

"In here," Sara called from the bedroom.

Grissom walked into their bedroom to see Sara searching through her closet. "What are you looking for?"

"Things I don't want anymore," she said. "I'm going to do a closet purge."

"Well, can you postpone it a few hours?"

"I suppose. What do you have in mind?"

He grinned. "The case the guys and I were working involved go-kart racing. Nick and Greg thought it sounded like fun to try it, so, the entire team is getting together to race tonight. Even Doc Robbins is coming."

Sara's eyes lit up. "Yeah, let's go! When do we need to leave?"

"Now would probably be best."

"I'm ready when you are."

He smiled. "Hey, how did you get home after your meeting?"

"Wendy brought me. She and Mandy took me out for breakfast when their shift ended."

His smile widened. "Did you have fun with the girls?"

"I did," she replied. "I didn't realize how much I've missed everyone until today."

"So, you're telling me we need to leave so you can see the rest of the team?"

"Yeah."

* * *

They were both so cheerful during the drive that Sara didn't want to bring up her meeting with Ecklie. She'd tell him later, when they were back at home. By then, she'd have her rationale for switching shifts totally worked out in her mind and ready to present to him.

Grissom pulled into a parking space and turned to look at Sara.

"What?" she asked.

"When did you tell Ecklie we got involved?" he asked.

"Two years ago," she said.

A look of disbelief and confusion came over Grissom's face.

"Why?" Sara asked, disbelief coloring her own face. "What did you tell him?"

"Nine years ago," Grissom replied as though it shouldn't even be a question.

_Nine years ago? But, that was when we … _Sara laughed. "The Forensics Academy Conference?" she asked, still laughing.

"Yeah."

Sara laughed even harder. To her, "involved" certainly meant more than a few shared dinners between lectures.

"You … uh … had too many questions about anthropology for some reason," Grissom said, trying to make her understand why he had said what he said.

Sara stopped laughing and gave him the same smile he had fallen in love with nine years before. "Well, I was stalling," she explained. "I was trying to get the nerve to ask you to dinner."

Grissom nodded, remembering that long-ago day. "You had a ponytail," he said, taking her hand.

Sara smiled, amazed he would remember that little detail. _Maybe he was right about the nine years thing … _

Silence fell as they both thought of all the changes they had undergone during those nine years … of all the ways they had fallen apart and still managed to stay together.

"I'm going to move to swing," Sara said, breaking the silence.

Grissom's head snapped around to look at her. "We talked about this."

"I know that you said that you would do it, but I don't want to do that to the team," Sara said.

She could already see that Grissom would let her have her way. His eyes softened; she knew he was thinking of the good of the team ahead of all else.

"Besides," she continued, winning her battle, "I am _sure_ that I can use more daylight in my life."

Grissom nodded slightly, and squeezed her hand. His grip was almost painful, but she welcomed it. The idea of working separate shifts hurt him as much as it did her.

"We should go," she said after a moment.

"Yeah," Grissom agreed.

He released her hand, and they both opened their doors to climb from the car.

The team was already on the race track when they entered the building. Greg and Catherine both waved as they sped past, but Warrick barely looked up, intent upon regaining the lead from Greg. Sara grinned and Grissom waved back. Nick pulled to a stop next to where they leaned on the fence separating the spectators from the racers.

"You wanna ride?" he asked.

"Wish I could," Sara said with a smile.

"What about you, Ricky Bobby?"

"No, thanks. I like to watch," Grissom replied, holding up his hands.

"Okay," Nick said in a voice that clearly said he was missing out. He flipped his visor back down over his eyes. "Ha, ha!" he exclaimed as he accelerated to join the others.

"You should go," Sara said at once, turning to look at Grissom with an encouraging smile.

"Yeah?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah," she said with a grin, nodding to emphasize her point. "You should go!"

He looked at her for a minute, smiling. She nodded again, her grin widening.

"Okay," he said at last.

Sara watched as he went through the gate and was directed to a go-kart. He put on a helmet and strapped himself in, looking at her as though he couldn't believe what he was about to do. Sara grinned and gave him a thumbs up sign. He needed to do things like this more often. Aside from the occasional rollercoaster ride, he hardly ever let himself go and just have _fun_.

Sara didn't mind standing on the sidelines this time, feeling like a parent whose children were on a carousel as she waved to her friends. Nick, Warrick and Greg were tough competitors, nudging each others' go-karts as they attempted to win the race. They were kind enough not to bump Catherine or Doc Robbins, and smart enough to leave their boss alone.

_What a team … When I walked into the lab eight years ago, I never dreamed this is how it would turn out._

Things had changed so much from the day she had joined the graveyard team all those years ago. Sara sighed, pushing her wayward hair back from her face as she watched her teammates – no, her _friends_ – race each other around in an endless loop. She smiled at Grissom as he passed her, waving and grinning in utter childlike excitement. She shook her head slightly.

_So many changes._

As a little girl whose life had been formed by tumultuous change, Sara had always craved stability. Normalcy. Routine. And, she had found it, here, in Vegas, with Grissom and this strange, wonderful family.

And, now, she was going to destroy all of that.

But, what other option was there? Ecklie knew about their relationship, knew that they had been, for lack of a better phrase, deceiving him for years. She smiled again at that thought. Even though they could not agree on how many years they had been together, they most certainly were, as Ecklie had said, _intimate_. And, as Ecklie had said, that intimacy violated lab policy. They had two options: End their work relationship or end their romantic relationship. Break up the team or break up themselves. Destroy their professional intimacy or destroy their personal intimacy.

They both knew that there was really only one option.

And, so, Sara would leave the team. She would still go to the lab every day. She would still be a crime scene investigator. She would still see her friends. She would still see the man who meant more to her than anything.

She just wished things didn't have to change. She wished that they could stay together both at work and away from work. She wished that the team would always be together as the family they had created.

But, somehow, despite all the changes that lay ahead, she knew that all the things that mattered would remain the same. Greg, Nick, Catherine, Warrick … they would always be her best friends. They would always be the ones she turned to in a crisis. The ones who would laugh with her, cry with her, celebrate with her and mourn with her. They were her family in all ways that mattered, and that would never change.

And, perhaps even more importantly, Grissom would always be there. A solid constant in her life, he was her lover and her best friend. He was the love of her life, and that would never change.

Despite all the changes, Sara knew that she had to focus on the stability, on the constancy in her life. Grissom and her friends would always be there. And, somehow, that was enough. She knew that they'd be all right.


End file.
